Secret of the Male Veela
by Mrriddler
Summary: DISCONTINUED AU GoF. Harry Potter is revealed to be the first Male Veela in a millennia. Is he up to the challenge of being the 'one? NO SLASH, powerful, political, intelligent Harry. HMulti with Fleur, Lavender, others
1. Metamorphosis

**_Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. The author of this story does not claim any such ownership of Harry Potter. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._**

**Summary**: AU GoF. It is said that with great powers come greater responsibilities. At the dawning of dark times, Harry Potter is revealed to be the first Male Veela in a millennia. Is he up to the challenge of being the '_one'_? NONSLASH, DARK themes, POLITICAL, independent Harry and 'WAR' harem featuring Fleur, Hogwarts girls and OFC

**Romance Warning:** This story will include **lemon/smut**, **femme slash**, **kinkiness**, some **BDSM** later on, but no slash. If these things are repulsive to you, please read no further. Actual **smutty**** parts** will only be posted on NC-17 allowing sites: Aff, FicWad, Yahoo! Group. Consult my author profile for more information.

**Credit:** Too many to list. The idea probably came from various challenges and plot bunnies. Off the top of my head, I can think of "Eugenics" by Mehetabelo, "Harry Potter and the News" by Big D (his story has a much, much, MUCH better smut), and "Dakaath: Prince of Darkness" by LT2000.

**Posted: 12/28/2005**

**Beta: ****Yogert**

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**Secret of the Male Veela**

**By: Mrriddler**

**Chapter 1: Metamorphosis**

Harry felt a pricking sensation around the wound where his blood was forcibly extracted. He forced himself to focus on the battle even as the sensation suddenly made him dizzy.

"**_Expelliarmus_**!"

"**_Avada Kedavra_**!"

The two beams of light met and a continuous stream of white light formed between the two hostile brother wands.

White ethereal shadows popped out. They told him to do something, Harry did …

The shadows attacked Voldemort while the Dark Lord himself ran like a bat out of hell…

Too bad he tripped over a broken piece of tombstone. Crying out in surprise and horror, Harry tumbled across the ground, groaning as acrid pain shot up his leg.

"**_Avada Kedavra_**!"

Reacting with instinct homed through years of Quidditch practice, the young 4th year flattened himself against the ground, watching with a sort of sordid fascination as the killing curse struck a Death Eater closing from the other side. The masked being of terror crumpled, never to rise again.

In the back of his mind, Harry almost snorted. Just like that. Seemed almost too easy. Luckily for Harry, the Death Eaters seemed shocked into inaction by the fall of one of their own until their half-breed lord urged them on.

"GET HIM! BUT MAKE SURE HE LIVES!"

Harry moved before the curses even left the tip of the Death Eaters' wands.

"**_Pyro Destructum_**!" The throng of Death Eaters charged right into the flaming fireball Harry unleashed. Several, caught in the blazing flame began dancing like chickens with their heads cut off, spreading fire onto their fellow Death Eaters. To Harry at a distance, it seemed as if the entire rank and file was soon consumed with trying to contain the raging flames. Several Death Eaters tried casting liquid showers to put out the fire, only to watch in amazement as the water seemed to enrage the towering flames.

The young boy thanked his lucky stars for having checked out that Most Potent of Magical Arts book earlier this year and couldn't suppress the vicious smirk that graced his face. Good luck on trying to put out _Sorcerer's fire_ with water.

'_Burn all you bastards!_' For his parents; for Cedric; and for all the others that they have harmed, maimed, and killed. He hoped that bastard traitor Wormtail was one of those being burned to death, but knew he would never be that lucky. Still, he was pleasantly comforted by the cry of anguish and rage from Voldemort.

Calmly, Harry pulled Cedric's body close to the Triwizard Cup. Taking one last hated glance at the chaotic crowd, he decided a parting gift was appropriate. From the back of his mind, a curse popped up. Raising his wand to the heavens, he shouted:

"**_Tempestas Dei_**!"

As the sky darkened ominously, Harry took it as his cue to leave. He only needed to imagine the horror on those inbred bastards' faces as the sudden rain gave the flames renewed strength.

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'_Damn Crouch! Damn Voldemort! Damn Fudge! Damn Snape! And bloody BUGGER Dumbledore!'_ Harry thought viciously as he wiped copious amounts of sweat off of his face. Via the blood he 'donated' to Voldemort, Harry somehow was getting hot flashes (literally) of Voldemort's memories: All his knowledge about the darkest of curses and rituals; his deepest, blackest secrets and desires… Everything that Voldemort knew, he now knew. And it was making his magic so chaotic that it felt as if he was being ripped apart.

With a stab of righteous anger, Harry wondered if Voldemort had even an inkling as to what his action had done to his nemesis. Most likely not, considering if he survived this, which he believed he would, Voldemort and all those who wronged him were going to be in a world of hurt. Yes, his newfound knowledge certainly put a lot of things in perspective.

After enduring what seemed like hours in a cooking oven, Harry felt himself cool down. It seemed as if the day's adventure was over…

The infirmary's door slammed open as a hooded figure glided into the room.

"What in the world?" Poor Madam Pomfrey had moved towards the door to find out what who or what was up at this ungodly hour only to be stricken down with a swift blow to the solar plexus. It knocked the good school nurse out for the count. Harry's eyes shot open in the next instant; he had gracefully flipped himself over the far side of the bed. Dropping into a defensive stance that he didn't even know he knew, he demanded in a cold voice.

"Who are you?"

The hood dropped to reveal the familiar exotic foreign beauty.

"Fleur?" Harry foolishly dropped his combat stance in shock as the girl's cute cupid bow lips curled into a smile.

"Well, what do you want?" Asked Harry anxiously, not quite understanding what was happening, even though he grew considerably more uncomfortable, and yet excited at the same time as the lithe female stalked towards him.

"You, 'arry." Before Harry could react, Fleur tossed some kind of powder at him that completely enthralled him. Harry collapsed onto the ground, dead unconscious.

"Ugh…" Harry mentally kicked himself for falling for that. He whirled around as he took in the expansive blackness before him. '_Great, must be trapped in some astral-plane of sorts_.' Thanks to Voldemort's mind, he was fairly sure that the thing he was sprinkled with was some variant of the Powder of Ever Essence, the premier form of sleep inducing hypnosis agent. Bah, what did all this knowledge mean if he couldn't use it to defend himself? One thing was for sure, if he got out of this one, he was going to do all he could to get his hands on some protection amulets. That and possibly do some non-soul sacrificing enhancement rituals.

Before Harry's thoughts could run further, however, Fleur appeared before him, in all her semi-naked glory, clad in what appeared to be a skimpy parody of the female equivalent of the combat robes. Despite all of his remonstrates, Harry would have been content to ogle had the insane Veela not decide to suddenly pin him to the ground with her long sharp, claws.

'_Wait…claws!'_ Harry watched in horror as a frighteningly predatory glean graced the normally innocent if, albeit, rather snobbish young woman's face. Unfortunately, it wasn't just the 'come hither' look girls were known to give to lucky blokes; rather it was the 'I'm going to have fun with you, pet, and there's nothing you can do about it' kind of look. For a second, Harry was suddenly very afraid, which Fleur apparently sensed as well.

Harry groaned in agony as the older girl skillfully, and passionately, kissed him on the lips. His struggles weakened and then stopped as the gorgeous blonde continued to fawn all over him, tracing fluffy kisses here and there. Expertly, she sliced open the clothes around his crotch. At that point, Harry's mind cleared up somewhat. Somehow he knew he couldn't allow himself be dominated like this, to be raped. He pushed the girl straddling him… hard. Caught off guard, the girl tumbled across the stone floor but quickly picked herself back up.

"Playing fiezty eh, 'arry?" Cooed Fleur with a light laugh. Harry growled as he covered himself as much as possible, while lifting his wand in front of him.

"Ah, vraiment. Don't you 'ant petite moi? Don't you 'ant to be my mate? I could make it very good for you." A wave of nostalgia, a desperate desire to let go, swept over him, but Harry held on. In fact, he tightened his shields against the Veela's charm until he felt himself becoming impervious to it.

"Not like this!" He hissed. The young wizard smiled as for once it was the girl who was surprised. But Harry became moderately concerned when surprise gave way to awe and then to hunger. He guessed trying to convince the older girl to back off was now out of the question.

"I knew there waz somezing special about you, 'arry, but I did not know just how special you were until now."

Harry rolled to the side, barely dodging the giant fireball that was fired his way. '_But she didn't even transform_…' But Harry caught on quick. Clearly, this wasn't the real world…

Pulling himself upright, he willed his clothes to transform into an approximate imitation of the standard Auror battle robes he occasionally saw. Fleur looked impressed, but not impressed enough to stop as she unleashed twin bolts of fire, while Harry slid to the side firing off a stunning curse of his own. Veela in their natural bird forms, like all demons and demonic based creatures, are very resistant to magic, but Harry had put enough power into his curse to knock Fleur back. Once again, she was surprised, but to Harry's amazement it once again only served to fuel the animalistic hunger that seemed to be driving the girl onwards. The Hogwarts hero realized it was going to be a long fight.

Hours later, with dozens of wounds registered on both combatants, the fight still raged back and forth. Harry was getting more and more frustrated, angry, and tired. Even if she was magic resistant, the numerous physical attacks he inflicted on the Veela should have wore her down, but outside of the superficial wounds, she looked as fresh now as she had at the beginning of the duel.

Groaning, Harry cursed, or rather whined, about having the worst luck. Why are the bad guys always after him? Why does the one hot chick, who wants to bed him also wants to fuck him over and turn him into some sort of sexual love slave? He was sick and tired of it.

He wanted to take out his frustrations on something, or rather someone, specifically the crazy Veela dueling him. He wanted to just let go. And before he realized it, he did as the deadly curse flew forth from his wand.

"**_Crucio_**!" Though shocked, the nimble girl nevertheless successfully evaded the unforgivable. Taking advantage of Harry's momentary lapse of concentration, Fleur tackled the exhausted male to the ground once more, this time pinning him down with all of her weight as his wand rolled out of reach. Though she wasn't heavy by any stretch of the word, Harry wasn't exactly the pinnacle of male fitness at this point either. Tired and weary from the hours of combat, Harry could only growl and glare at the smiling female on top of him. Part of him was horny as hell. Another part was frightened at the loss of his mind and individuality; and for good reason but yet another teenage male part was undoubtedly appalled at having lost to a girl. How the hell was he ever going to kill Voldemort?

"Don't be sad, 'arry. I'm really imprezed you rezisted me as much as you did. Thiz _astral plane_ iz the dezigned for the Veela. The very air and magic 'ere makes us almost invincible."

'_So that's how Fleur suddenly got so good at combat and without a wand too.'_ Harry couldn't help but be relaxed under the soothing touch administered by the beauty above him. Her silvery-blonde hair fanning out to her shoulders, framing a heart-wrenchingly beautiful porcelain face with all the right delicate elven features, but without the haughty aristocratic edge. He sympathized for once with how Ron could be rendered so speechless every time this angel was near. Briefly, Harry acknowledged that it might not be so bad. It was a thought that Fleur must have picked up on, because she gave a dazzling smile, flashing her row of perfectly straight white teeth.

"All ze Veelaz in ze world 'ould be jealouz of me for catching such a virile male. A girl lovez a guy with stamina after all." Without further ado the sexy Veela began shredding his clothing once again, until he was naked as the day he arrived in this world.

"Oh la la." Fleur purred in affection as she caressed him lovingly. Interestingly, her claws had vanished, replaced by delicate and slender digits, which were doing a marvelous job of teasing and stimulating his vital parts. Harry flushed in embarrassment at the intimate contact.

"What shyness! We'll 'av to fix zat once I take you 'ome."

"What?"

"Of course, you don't zink I would leave my pet here in this forzaking country do you?" The older girl tried to nuzzle him, but Harry suddenly felt cold.

"What… what about Voldemort?" He managed to croak out even as his ah… equipment was being expertly massaged.

"Hmm…oh don't worry about him. You'll be safe in France." Caught up in her own games, Fleur missed the rapidly darkening shadow casting over Harry. "Hey, if you are good, maybe I'll let Gabrielle try you once she growz up. She 'as an adorable crush on you."

Harry's blood boiled with rage. After witnessing his parents' death countless times in many nights of restless sleep, after seeing the death of his classmate at the hands of that traitor, and realizing the devastation wrought by Death Eaters like Crouch, he was suppose to just lie down and ignore all this?

'_Hell no_…'

To the Veela's consternation, Harry let out a mighty roar as he was enveloped in a blinding flash of white light.

Now, the astral plane Veela used to trap their would-be prey, such as powerful human males, was rather singularly unique. It was essentially flooded with a form of Veela hormone supplement that could be directly absorbed by these sexual creatures and then internalized as either raw magic power or as life force energy. This meant that Veela, were as Fleur claimed, 'invincible' here and could wear down their target in combat until he or she could be more easily dominated. Naturally, the Veela astral-plane was ineffective (if not counter productive and dangerous for the Veela's own safety and freedom) against sexually charged creatures such as vampires, for instance, because that was how one would presumably defeat a Veela here. By being more powerful, more adept at absorbing and utilizing the plane's natural sexual energies and by showing more sexual prowess, the prey could turn the natural advantages of the Veela instigator against her.

Fleur realized that was exactly what Harry was doing, though she wasn't sure how. The Veela only felt a flash of movement as she was toppled before something hard and heavy pressed her front side into the ground.

"If and when I do your sister, it will be on my terms, _bitch_." Fleur shivered as she felt the sneer of derision in the cold deep voice. For the first time, the Veela realized what she had gotten herself into. A bit of fear, but also a lot of anticipation coursed through her.

One of Harry's hands dipped south.

"You are wet." He growled out, half in humor and half in something that sent goosebumps racing across her back.

The girl tried half heartedly to try to shake the younger boy off, but spread apart on her stomach, she wasn't able to get much leverage. But then, she wasn't in much of a position to resist given how she was reduced to a quivering mess within seconds. Sweat poured off of her causing her cool hair to stick against her back even as she dripped nonstop.

Fleur groaned and shivered, but could do little else. It was as if an overwhelming force was keeping her there, face down on the ground, compelling her to remain lying wide open and vulnerable.

"'arry…" She called out.

"Would you have forced yourself on me?"

Silence.

Fleur didn't dare herself to talk, but the powerful being before her just looked coldly at her and waited. She almost hoped that he would move, to take her, rather than looking at her with those… green eyes, but he didn't. He just waited.

"Oui." The veela stated fearfully, preparing herself for the worst.

Harry sighed in response and, to the surprise of the blonde, pulled away.

"Let me out."

"Wha?"

"LET. ME. OUT. OF. HERE. FLEUR!" The older girl yelped at both the magical force put behind the male's yell. He sounded… desperate.

"Just let me go, Fleur." Fleur felt vicious heart wrenching pain lace through her, seeing this young man, her rightful master, pleading to her.

"But don't you want ….me, 'arry?"

"I want to be as far away from you as possible!" The voice was cold and hard as steel, even as Fleur sensed a storm of unimaginable rage, righteous anger and titanic lust crashing beneath Harry's harsh exterior. What unbelievable control, what persevering determination…

Instinctively, Fleur reached for him, but Harry wearied moved away, eyeing the beautiful blonde with profound suspicion. Fleur felt her chest aching with pain and sorry.

"Stay away from me!"

"Pleaze, 'arry, do not leave! Stay with me…" Harry looked at the older girl as if she was insane.

"But, I'm going to…" The veela saw the young male, almost sagging under the load of unbridled passion and desire.

"Yez, it'z alright, 'arry. Pleaze, I want you. I need you!" Fleur cried, crawling towards the stunned boy.

**-----LEMON WARNING-----**

Text Cut

**-----END LEMON-----**

**Back in the Hogwarts Infirmary…**

"'arry." Harry blinked owlishly at the angelic face gazing adoringly up at him.

"Hm, Fleur?" The young boy asked dizzily, only noticing that he was lying on the ground in a semi-naked state with a Veela pressed on top of him. Any previous time, he would have been blushing furiously from feeling a girl's cleavage being pressed against him, much less one from such a beautiful girl. But for some reason, here and now, it felt so natural to him that he could only smile while pulling her just a tad closer.

"What...?" That's when memories of what happened hit him full force. Harry's shoulders sank in grief and horror, what had they done, what had he done… he didn't know what came over him to make him react like that.

Before he ended up being a complete basket case, Fleur pulled the distraught boy up and installed him back in his bed.

"Fleur, I'm sorry… back there, I don't know what came over me."

Much to his amazement, the older girl shushed all the while smiling broadly.

"Don't be silly, 'arry. You did nothinz wrong…in fact quite the oppozite. You did everyzing correctly." The suggestive arched eyebrow look the Veela gave him confused him to no end.

Harry frowned as peels of laughter erupted from the French girl. He fought down the urge to lay her over him and…

Whoa…Harry shook himself from that line of thought. '_Where the bloody hell did THAT come from_…'

"Oh, 'arry. I never took you for being such an effective dominator."

"But that wasn't me, was it?"

"I'm not entirely sure what 'appened, but trust me, I wanted it as much as you." The reassurances, gentle smiles and soothing caresses went a long way towards alleviating Harry's nerves.

"Why didn't you just come to me rather than do this? I mean it's not like I would have resisted." Disappointment was clear in his voice.

"I'm sorry, 'arry. The best I can offer iz zat I'm not fully human. Az a veela, it waz like I waz compelled to do zis." Harry wasn't pleased, but seemed satisfied enough with the answer.

"So what now?"

"Well… since it'z still dark out…I waz 'oping zat we could consummate our relationship in ze real world."

Harry eyes bugged out once more even as the bodacious beauty nuzzled her cheeks against his chest like a big cat.

"What!"

"I'm your enthralled now, master." Fleur was unable to stifle her giggles as her master inadvertently produced an accurate imitation of a gold fish.

"I thought that was a one time fantasy kind of thing. I mean the astral-plane place wasn't real right. We aren't covered in our juices and less than an hour has passed."

For some reason, his brash statement caused the girl to adopt a very hurt look, which put Harry in a very nasty bind now. He opened and closed his mouth ineffectually until Fleur spoke again in a much smaller voice.

"It waz very much real, 'arry. Please, I never knew 'ow badly ah…_Vous Savez Qui_ hurt you. I'm sorry I waz so insensitive. But I can still make it very good for you, except you'll be in control. Just…just let me be wiz you."

Harry was not foolish enough to reject such an offer, not that he could given how those big tear stained, adoring and pleading eyes gazed at him as if begging him to accept.

"Of course I do, Fleur. But you are going back to France soon and besides, I just assumed that you would want to be with someone 'better,' right?" As if to prove his point, Harry lifted one of his rather screwy frail arms. Of all things, the sexy girl laughed merrily as if happy that it wasn't anything she did that made her master hesitate.

"Oh, 'arry, did you think ve, Veela, got to here by being so shallow?" Her eyes dancing with hidden mirth.

"But let me show you what I really want and what I really think of you." Harry swore he went cross-eyed as the older girl engulfed him, caressing, licking and loving him.

Briefly the girl seemed to gag as she tried to take in more than she could handle. Funny how she had no problem earlier. At the back of his mind, Harry probably was wondering when he grew so many inches, but at this time, though, his brain was completely depleted of any blood and therefore incapable of rationalizing any subsequent thought.

Gently, he pushed back a bit so that his lover could be more comfortable and better apply suction. Looking down and seeing the love and affection radiating from two blue eyes, he reached out and caressed his lover's soft blonde mane. He groaned as the shudder of pleasure reverberated from Fleur to him via their contact point.

Harry felt a familiar animalistic sensation; the need for complementation.

"Take me again, pleaze Master." The soft calculating smile on her master's face once again sent tingling goosebumps across Fleur's skin like droplets of cold water.

"As you wish, slave." Without further ado, Harry, using strength that neither knew he had, lifted his female lover onto his bed and began swiftly divesting both of their remaining clothing.

….

Harry sighed deeply once more, chuckling slightly as the female on top of him purred; her long blonde hair spread out across his chest, tickling him every time either of them made the slightest movement. He was still confused at what has happened in the last 24 hours and he couldn't say he was entirely 100 percent comfortable with them, but he was getting used to it. But then being bonded to or as it was, having an angelic beauty bonded to him, would do that.

"Fleur…" No response… He called out again.

"Oui?" A lazy lethargic voice greeted him.

"Ahm… as comfortable this is, you should probably go before anyone finds us like this, or before Madam Pomfrey wakes up."

Harry couldn't keep the smile off of his face as his lover gave a cute feline like growl of annoyance. The Veela turned to him with an irresistible pout.

Harry willed himself to resist.

"I mean it."

Fleur scowled but nevertheless acquiesced. Picking herself off of the small single person hospitable bed she shared with Harry, the Veela cast several cleaning charms to clear up the mess and then began dressing, but, albeit, very, very slowly. She dragged out each moment until Harry finally groaned in frustration.

"I'm going to have to punish you for that next time, wench." The domineering tone of voice caused an instant flush on Fleur's cheeks.

"Yes, master," The girl murmured demurely as she continued dressing.

As the older girl finally donned on her cloak minus the hood, she turned to Harry with a gentle, loving smile.

"Can I see you soon, master?"

"Of course, Fleur. Just please make sure you call me Harry in public." Harry shuddered at what would happen if the press ever got a hang of this. He could just see the headlines: _Boy Who Lived Turns Veela into Personal Love Slave_.

The young woman laughed, possibly thinking the same thing, but agreed.

"I'm really going to miss you over the summer, Fleur." Harry admitted. In truth, after all the fun was over, he still wondered if it would all seem like a dream to him later. It already seemed too good to be true and he had just experienced it. As if sensing his anxiety, Fleur crossed the room and leaned over the side of Harry's bed.

"Oh 'arry, we still 'av time. I know you are confused now. Moi aussi. Mais… ahm, well I'll try to explain everyzing once I find out more: About what I did or tried to do, about why you are acting like the way you are, and about our ahm…future. D'accord?"

Harry nodded.

"Sleep well, my loving master." Fleur gave her young lover one last passionate kiss before leaving. As she left, Harry swore he saw her gliding or skipping, rather than walk.

So despite all the tragedies of that day: Cedric's death, Wormtail and Crouch's actions, Voldemort's revival and his subsequent acquisition of the dark lord's memories, Harry probably slept better than he ever did before, as he dreamed of chasing heavenly angels.

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**Translation:**

**Moi aussi** – Me too

**Mais** – But


	2. Realizing the Bond

**Rating:** T for references to copulation and hints of lesbianism.

**Posted: 1/3/2006**

**Beta: Yogert**

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**Chapter 2: Realizing the Bond **

"You Know Who ….returned? Preposterous…Dumbledore, the boy was full of some crackpot scheme…"

The good Minster Fudge's voice of so-called reason from last night rang loud and clear in Harry's ears.

'_A crackpot scheme indeed_…_'_ Thought Harry savagely. Of course, Dumbledore, good old benevolent Dumbledore was still trying to play the grandfather card. Trying to get everything and everyone to go his way… keeping everyone in the dark in his web of half-truths.

'_What the hell was that prophecy all about? Why did you never feel the need to tell me?' _What was it about him that was so important that Dumbledore kept it from everyone…everyone except for Snape, of course. Good old tormenting Snape. Why was he surprised when one of the banes of his existence thus far, seemed to be at the center of the conspiracy.

Harry sensed from Voldemort that Dumbledore somehow personally engineered Snape to offer that part of the prophecy to appease the dark lord, the prophecy that ultimately helped doom his parents… parents whom the bastard Slytherin head of house hated.

Oh what treachery.

A vase on the far side of the room shattered into a million pieces. Harry willed himself to calm down, before pulling out his wand and made a simple wand motion that repaired the vase. Thankfully, it was early enough that the school nurse was in her office resting. Far as he could tell, she shook off the incident with Fleur as a result of being recently overworked.

And Dumbledore was a fool to have ever trusted that scumbag. Voldemort was well aware of his follower's double agent status: meaning that Snape was either firmly on the dark side or on his own. Harry hoped the greasy git was pleasantly shocked at the royal mess he made of his fellow Death Eaters. God, he couldn't wait until he got his hands on that slimy…

Harry focused his anger once more and jabbed at the vase with his wand. It exploded again…and he repaired it again.

No, it would not do to lose his cool now. Not now, not now. Desperately, Harry sought out the joy that filled him last night and this morning while in the company of the French veela. It worked…for now.

When Harry woke up, it was still dark, though dawn appeared to be around the corner. His mind was in a frenzied state while bullets of sweat poured from him. The absorption of Voldemort's memories and whatever weird transformation Fleur was talking about finally finished, and had left him momentarily more exhausted than when he first went to bed. But now that it was over, it left Harry in an interesting conundrum. What does a 14 year old with the mind and knowledge of one of the darkest wizards in history do when he's surrounded by oblivious enemies and hostile agents wishing to either marginalize, destroy or control him.

From an objective point of view, Harry could almost sympathize with the Dark Lord's anger and rage at the world. First, there was the abandonment of him and his mother by his father, and then Dumbledore's general unwillingness to intervene on Tom's behalf during the first crucial years after his introduction into the wizarding world. While Harry was certain the memories were badly tainted, he definitely could see how badly the headmaster screwed up by trying to put the young teen under a microscope as if he was some rare specimen to be studied; his actions and reactions prodded along and monitored.

Tom must not have liked that…and, of course, intelligent beings don't really make good puppets.

On the other hand, old Tommy's sadistic affectations with inflicting pain could and should have been arrested via psycho-therapy …had such a thing existed in the Wizarding world. Ah, of course, another failing of the magical human world…lack of advanced therapy treatment.

Harry, while no longer quite as queasy about the dart arts or even clearing off the vermin Tommy boy helped sponsor in this world, nevertheless had no desire to be popularized as a mass murderer, which undoubtedly would happen should the press ever get word of his deeds. In fact, if Lucius Malfoy and his ilk somehow anonymously distribute knowledge about what Harry did to those death eaters last night.

_Bugger that_…

Oh, and it just so happened that blasted Dumbledore so masterfully alienated Harry from the one person who, foolish and pathetic as he was, might have shielded him from the press, Minister Fudge.

_Double bugger_…

He needed to act quickly to rectify what had happened and to protect himself. He needed to get his side of the story out first and do so convincingly so as to discredit whatever the Death Eaters might say.

Harry smiled a smile that would have greatly disturbed his friends had they seen him just then for he knew just the person who was going to help him.

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The days and weeks following the Tri-Wizard Tournament's 3rd event came and went without much happening. Harry tried to play the depressed, withdrawn, and shocked little boy card as much as possible as an excuse to avoid other people. Until he had a better handle on things he was going to stay away from situations in which he might reveal his hand, i.e. Dumbledore. Though he had the knowledge and the vicarious experiences of a master occlumens, Harry still wasn't sure if he could block out or possibly fool the veteran legimen's attacks in real life. It was best if that scenario was avoided all together. Thankfully the old coot bought Harry's act just like everyone else, though not everyone was happy about it.

"Harry! Harry! Wait up!" Harry turned to find his best female friend jogging to catch up, which incidentally caused her modest assets to juggle quite nicely.

'_Down boy_…_'_ Harry thought harshly. It hadn't been even a week since his last rendezvous with his secret French lover and he already felt a maddeningly irresistible desire to scratch his itch. Knowing that he needed to curtail his sexual desires sooner or later was the only thing that reinforced his will in its combat against his newly discovered southern head.

"Hey Hermione, what's up?"

The bushy hair girl glared, folding her arms across her in a classic 'I'm going to lecture you and you can't talk me out of it' manner.

"You tell me, because you haven't been speaking with Ron or me at all. I know you are still hurt over Cedric's death, but it's not good to keep it all inside of you. You know Ron and I are here for you."

Harry winced. He knew he was deliberately avoiding his friends, but at this point he had no choice. His secret sex life and the secret work he was doing against Voldemort were a tad too complicated right now and he knew his friends would never understand.

'…_well, maybe Mia could if…_ _Damn it; don't make me cut you off!'_ Harry almost groaned at the double meaning of that thought, but it seemed to have gotten the job done.

"I'm fine, really. It's just… I just need a little more time, ok Hermione?" Just to make sure, Harry added a weak dose of his newly acquired ladies charm. It worked marvelously as he saw studious Hermione suddenly feeling weak in the knees. In the recess of his mind, Harry felt a twinge of guilt at doing what he did to his friend, but he easily suppressed it. Too much was at stake.

"Hey Harry, Mione." Harry turned to see his other best friend run up to them. Their mutual bookworm friend answered with a scowl.

"I told you to stop calling me that, Ron." The red head brushed her complaint aside much to the brunette's ire and to Harry's amusement. The young Weasley had been a fairly decent friend so far, but Harry suspected that his old buddy's tendency to succumb to that fiery temper of his might be a major cause of friction later on. In fact, it was almost guaranteed to be a major problem.

What's more, Ron, like him before now, and all of the Gryffindors were much too naïve, too narrow minded… too firmly caught up in the fanciful web Dumbledore spent decades spinning. Harry had no doubt that his success now depended on the cooperation of the rogue Slytherins and other fringe and pariah elements of society. And it was almost assured that he would need to go to it alone at this point. Looking at the innocent concerned faces of his two friends, he seriously doubted that their childhood friendship would survive in the future. But was he concerned about that? Of course he was, but it was a slight shock to him that he was willing to accept that as the necessary cost.

He had lived a lifetime's worth of nightmares and pain via the absorption of Voldemort's memories. The pain of losing a couple friendships built over a matter of years seemed tame in comparison now. Heck, he could do everyone a service if he severed his connections right now and established new ones. It would keep his old friends safe from the cold dark world out there and from being dragged into his troubles any further and it would free him to make new contacts and new friendships with ahm…the lesser elements as it were.

But he would not be so crass. For one, there was Dumbledore…yes always Dumbledore. He also owed his friends that much to remain loyal; at least for now. If they chose to shun him in time, then so be it. But they, not him, if and when it occurred, would cause the break of the Golden Trio. No, he would be the good Gryffindor he was and remain steadfastly loyal. It was an interesting juxtaposition to be sure when, even now, he planned with cunningness that would have made Salazar proud. But it would be an interesting test for him; a test to see if he could balance his thirst for knowledge, skill, and, some would argue, power, whetted by the memories of the dark lord without sacrificing all of his moral values.

"So what are you guys up to?" Asked Harry.

"Mione made us stay at the library all morning, even though school is OVER! Bloody hell, now I'm hungry."

"Ronald Weasley, language! School is NEVER over and you are always hungry." Retorted Hermione with distain.

"Ah, yeah right. Come on Harry, help me out." The bickering couple turned to their friend. Caught quite off guard, the smile Harry wore momentarily slid off until he came up with an appropriate response.

"I think you are both right. Learning is always good, but…!" Raising his finger to hush Ron's protest. "You know what they say; the harder you study, the hungrier you get."

Neither seemed to be too pleased, but didn't dispute Harry's logic.

"So, want to go for lunch?" Asked Ron. Harry almost said no, which was what he had been doing the last couple of days, but seeing the hopeful expression of his friends, he agreed. Before even taking two steps towards the dinning hall, a voice startled the trio...

"Excuze me…"

Ah-oh…

"Ah…ahm, yesss?" Asked Ron, stammering rather pathetically as his cheeks heated up. Hermione instantly gave her trademark 'I'm mad at you' scowl.

Harry vaguely felt the desire to arch an eyebrow and send his friend off for trying to hit on 'his' woman…if what he was doing could be considered that, anyway. Fleur, though, gave a nervous and slightly weary smile to the two before turning to face Harry, who subsequently had to fight from reacting to the sea of swirling emotions buried just beneath the surface of her eyes.

"'arry? May I speak wiz you?" Glancing at the two, she added by laying a hand on Harry's shoulder, "… in private."

Predictably, his friends instantly jumped in protest for one reason or another. Ron's reaction was particularly interesting, as every time he tried to speak, he grew redder. By the time, he finally came to his senses and decided to remain quiet, he was as bright as a tomato. Whether it was from anger and jealousy at Harry or the amorous effect of the veela charm or a combination of the two, it made for an altogether hilarious sight to behold and Harry almost broke out in laughter.

Fleur, meanwhile, seemed genuinely surprised at the hostility directly at her, and had unconsciously taken a half a step behind Harry as if seeking his protection. It was an act that didn't go unnoticed by Harry's friends.

"I can talk to you later, 'arry." It was the brief flash of hurt and loneliness in those normally cheerful and bright blue eyes that forced Harry to act. Grabbing her arm gently, but firmly, he stopped her.

"Fleur wait. I can go now. Guys, go to lunch. I'm not really hungry and can always grab some food from the kitchens later." Fleur was pleased, but tried her best to not show it, not that it mattered right now. Both of Harry's friends seemed too tied up in their own emotions to notice the signs. Ron was naturally seething in jealousy and seemed intent on staying, while Hermione was clearly furious with both of her guy friends. She seemed ready to tell Harry off, until she noticed his detached expression. Realizing he was doing nothing wrong and that Ron was being the prat, she pulled her startled red headed friend off to lunch, bickering with him all the way.

Harry guided Fleur in the opposite direction for about five paces before breaking up in laughter.

"What'z so funny?" Harry squinted his eyebrows towards the opposite direction. A thin smile graced the pretty veela's face, but then turned into a grimace of sorts. Harry watched until Fleur turned away frowning…

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"I… well, I don't think I should…"

"Speak your mind Fleur, please."

"I don't really like your friendz, 'arry." Harry blinked. Seeing his expressionless look, Fleur assumed the worst and immediately tried to give a tearful apology.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean anyzing by it. They are your friendz…"

"Hold on, hold on Fleur. It's fine. I mean, back there, I wasn't too impressed with them either." Harry watched as Fleur sighed in audible relief.

"Care to explain to me exactly why you don't like them though?"

The veela seemed hesitant at first, still fearful of invoking her lover's wraith, but eventually caved at Harry's urgings.

"The male red head, I think hiz name iz Weazel…"

"Weasley." It was only out of profound respect for his friend that he didn't break out in chuckles.

"Yes, Weazley…" The girl noted with a clear hint of distain. "…Tried to ask me to the ball in front of my fellow Beauxbatons classmates and friendz. He waz all red and stammered for five minutes."

Harry did chuckle this time. Fleur smiled as well, apparently decided upon recounting the tale that it was slightly humorous.

"But I also don't like how he looks at me. He'z even worse than the other boyz, so unlike you, 'arry. You 'av and are everyzing I want."

Either he was simply used to the veela's gestures of affection or because of his mental maturation, Harry didn't blush at all. Instead, he only smiled knowingly and, after making sure the hall was clear, leaned in to give his foreign lover a tender kiss on the lips.

"Thank you, Fleur. I'm so very pleased that you have no intention of leaving me for my best friend." The beautiful blonde made a retching sound along with some comment questioning the state of the red head's manliness. To a bit of his own shame, he felt himself squeal with joy inside. Though still only in private, his increasing displays of possessiveness of the older girl made his chest swell with pride and filled him with a sense of contentment the likes of which he never felt before; especially given how willing she was to being 'claimed' by him. He knew Ron had less than zero of a chance.

Fleur Delacour, foreign beauty queen of Beauxbatons, really was quite smitten with him and Harry James Potter, Quidditch extraordinaire and Boy Who Lived, couldn't be more pleased. Even more so since he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind…in particularly her glistening sweating, dripping…. _Whoa horsy_!

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. He really wasn't in a condition to handle any more of his hormones right now. Not if he wanted to avoid being caught shagging the hot bodacious foreign veela in the hallway.

"What about Hermione?" Harry asked rather off handedly, more as a distraction for himself than anything else.

Apparently Fleur misunderstood as she answered grudgingly.

"She'z ok, I suppose." Partially because of his caged environment, Harry had never been particularly good at understanding the minds of people. But with his recent influx of knowledge, he'd become much keener on practically everything: particularly moods, expressions and behavior patterns of the opposite sex.

"Excuse me?" Fleur flushed slightly, from discomfort, embarrassment, or jealousy, Harry wasn't sure…

'_Jealousy? What does she have to be jealous of? Oh don't tell me_…'

"She'z decent looking I mean. Physically, she iz cute if not quite developed. Seemz too antagonique et conflictuelle I think. Do you… do you want me to …consummate with '_her_' as well?" The word 'her' was emphasized as if it was evil, and Fleur looked positively distraught at that possibility for whatever reason.

"What do you mean 'as well'?"

It was only after he saw the faint flush caress the veela's flawless pale skin that Harry had an inkling as to what this was all about.

_What the bloody… oh bugger_…

"I suspected, not that I mind of course…" Harry saw through that lie right away.

"But if you 'ad told me rather than avoid me for an entire week, I could 'ave introduced you to all kindz of lovely girlz from Beauxbatons. But I suppose you wanted to find your own and at your own school. I just think you could have done better than her, 'arry."

At some other time, Harry would have been fascinated to study the resemblance between a female's emotional shifts and a muggle roller coaster ride, but that time was definitely not right now. Right now, feelings of sadness, envy, resignation, worry, depression, loneliness, hope, and love poured off of the veela in waves and could be seen warring chaotically against one another within Fleur's tortured eyes.

"Hold on, are you accusing me of having sex with Hermione?" Not even the Daily Prophet has come up with something like this …yet he doubted it was from a lack of trying. Harry was very displeased with this completely unfounded question of his integrity…well perhaps not completely unfounded in light of certain events. But, once again, either because the girl was just taken by paranoia or just happened to read him wrong completely.

"Who else did you 'ave sex with?" The older girl asked timidly. Harry was quite horrified at this point.

"I didn't have sex with **_anyone_**, Fleur!" He ground out, almost yelling out each word. He checked the halls to make sure they were still alone.

"You thought I was avoiding you so I could have sex with… and with Hermione? Ack…bloody hell, Fleur! You were my first and only, you know!"

The girl's cute lips locked into a perfect 'O' expression of surprise. Harry rubbed his temples, as Fleur seemed to look at him in disbelief as if she couldn't believe he hadn't cheated on her. He was only trying to exercise some control, considering it seemed likely that they would be separated temporarily once school was out for the summer. What the heck was he going to do when he couldn't even last a week without sex? Needless to say, he had tried to achieve relief by himself, but the results so far had not been encouraging, considering doing so seemed to aggravate, and not alleviate his problem.

"Ok, you sound as if you don't believe me, then let me ask you this." Harry hoped to the high heavens he had read the situation correctly or else some guy was going to pay with his balls. "Have you been with another since our time then?"

Fleur took to her feet in vehement protest before Harry even finished his question. If she seemed distraught at the possibility of her lover sleeping around, the veela seemed absolutely horrified and furious she would even consider doing such a thing. Though it took a good five minutes to manhandle the flailing girl back down, Harry couldn't feel but buoyant that he had exclusive access to the sexy veela witch… but then it could always be something else.

"Ok, settle down! Am I the only one seeing something wrong with the fact you seemed shocked I wouldn't cheat on you, while at the same time, you are shocked that I think you might cheat on me?"

"Look, if this is some ploy to make me break up with you, I suggest you come clean now. I told you that night that you don't have to do any of this. Heck I know we both know I'm the lucky one here."

Harry stated with distaste, knowing that the guilt tactic was one girls were very familiar with. As much he hated to do that, he would much prefer no relationship than one built on lies. But that idea was shot to hell as Fleur began making rather heart-wrenching sobs.

"Y-you don't understand, 'arry. I became bonded to you zat night in the astral-plane in the infirmary. I'm now yourz and only yourz. I know you don't believe me yet, but you are very much my master. As a veela, my very being and magic are tied to you. If I should voluntarily seek a union with another male, even if I wanted to, the magical backlash could kill me." But the veela made little doubt what she thought of the concept of seeking a replacement or second in Harry's place as she scrunched up her face in distaste.

"But for you… the oppozite would happen. Other witches you are with would also likely bond wiz, you az I 'ave."

"When were you going to tell me all this, Fleur?" The girl dropped her head, refusing to meet her love's eyes.

"I'm so sorry, master." Harry was about to correct her again before stopping himself mid-thought. This was the way it was suppose to be right?

"Hmm, do you have so little faith in your 'master' then that you would think he would be so selfish as to completely ignore the state of being of his slave? That he would callously and casually sleep around simply because he can? Is that how you think of me, Fleur?"

Partly because he only discovered the fairer sex this year, Harry would never have guessed he would be so concerned about having a compulsive playboy image. But, then again, it probably weighed heavily because of how close it came to describing what he was feeling. It's like he went into withdrawal unless he was conjoined with Fleur every other day and part of him, the righteous part of course, was disturbed at the possibility that that craving need not be fulfilled Fleur, but rather any decent looking female would do. The lovely veela's quietly resigned attitude about this didn't help improve Harry's faith in himself.

"No…no, of course not. You 'av the kindest and most noble soul of anyone I 'av ever met. You showed everyone zat when you rescued my sizter, Gabrielle." As the girl seemed to be trying to make herself realize something, Harry decided to remain quiet. After a few minutes, Fleur finally looked up, her face lit with a faint but distinctly bright smile that warmed Harry's heart.

"I'm truly sorry, 'arry. I waz just so caught up in my insecurities zat I forgot who my master waz. Pleaze, let zis humble slave repent for her sinz." The warm fuzzy feeling within Harry's chest grew into a raging inferno as the veela locked her lips against his own.

"Fleur, I still feel as if I don't know a lot of what's going on, but I do know that this us thing is not going to work unless we talk about what we just talked about. I will _NOT_ accept you as some sort of cheap sex slave, well…not only that at least. You got that?"

The girl nodded enthusiastically. Life seemed almost too good to be true for her. She had a loving, caring master who gave her not only great sex, but was also intent on making sure she got the most out of their relationship. This likely made it all the harder for her to keep delaying telling him everything.

Despite having the good fortune so far of meeting anyone, Harry waited until they arrived at one of the most secluded and unused corridors before wrapping an arm around his girl.

After thinking a bit, Harry decided to say something serious, or rather make something like a promise though he knew he would have a hell of a time trying to remain true to it.

"I don't know what lies in the future, Fleur, but I want you to know that I'll do my best to remain loyal to you… Even if I don't have to." Harry answered, adding the last part before the girl could protest. For some reason, though, Harry could see that the girl honestly appreciated what he said, she didn't seem to hold much stock in it.

"And don't worry, I would never force you to be together with another girl, no matter how great that urge is." Harry added jokingly. Unfortunately, Harry miscalculated as a contemplative expression fell over Fleur.

"Oh, you don't 'av to force me, 'arry. I am not exactly oppozed to being in a threesome with another girl, provided we all like each other."

When he realized she wasn't joking, Harry suddenly felt distinctively queasy and, of course, his southern brain naturally became very interested.

"I thought you said the bond would keep you from others?"

"Other malez, yes, but femalez are fine provided you approve. The bond adaptz to the master's preference and orientation."

"And you, as in yourself, not the bond, are ok with that?"

"Oui, given my condition, almost all of my friendz 're female and I 'av alwayz liked a few of them a little more than normal."

'_Guess that kind of explains the getting other girls from Beauxbatons' comment.' _

"Have you ever done anything with them?" Harry asked as images of him, Fleur and various friends of hers being together flooded his mind. Throughout the school year, Harry had often noticed a small gaggle of cute, but nowhere near as gorgeous, girls surrounding the beautiful veela like she was the queen bee. He had to fight hard to keep himself from dragging up memory of what some of the potential threesome candidates looked like.

"Know what? That's not important now. But this latest surprise does tell me that we need to have a long, and serious talk, right now."

"Come with me." Linking his arms around the unresisting female, he pulled, or rather guided the girl through a few empty corridors to a blank indention in the walls. Ignoring Fleur's confused expression, Harry concentrated on projecting what he wanted. A soft gasped told him he succeeded. After scanning the hall to his magic to make sure it was empty, Harry pulled the startled veela through the door that had appeared before them.

"Welcome to the Room of Requirement." Harry said, answering his partner's unspoken question.

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**Translation: **

**Antagonique et conflictuelle **– antagonistic and confrontational


	3. Male Veela

**AN – Veela Sexuality:** I'm not sure if I made this clear enough, but the female **_veela_** is by **_default_** the **_dominant_** sexual partner in any relationship with a human due to their greater bedroom prowess. (Took the dominant female/matriarchal idea straight from the Drow actually) I do believe this is a break from every single non-slash story featuring Fleur/Gabrielle/OF veela. Yes, there was the stereotypical fight but the issue was that had Harry lost, which was what was expected, he would have become the slave.

**Posted: 1/7/2006**

**Beta:** **Yogert**

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**Chapter 3: I'm a Male Veela?**

As the girl took in the sight of the Room of Requirement, Harry guided her to one of the long comfortable looking sofas. He sank on one side and pulled the French beauty down beside him.

"Oooo la la… zis iz amazing, 'arry!" The rather heated and emotion filled talk, though draining, seemed to reassure and calm the girl somewhat, but alas it wasn't over.

"Indeed."

With all the time he had for himself, Harry had spent it exploring Hogwarts hoping to unlock its various and tempting secrets. Aided by his extensive knowledge, which was supplemented with occasional forays into the Restricted Section of the library at night, Harry came upon many pleasant surprises, the present room being one of them. It was most fortunate that Dumbledore didn't seem to have been keeping an eye on this room. But Harry's newly developed photographic memory did recall the headmaster talking about finding a restroom in time of need in his first year. Harry suspected the old man knew this place very well, but just didn't expect him to know about it at this point. Nevertheless, a quick scan of the surrounding showed that the room may still yet serve his purpose.

Soft and smooth delicate hands snaked under his clothes. Harry groaned as he felt his skin being expertly kneaded. The sex kitten pawing and purring all over him gave him a coy smile that almost melt his resolve…almost.

"Ok, enough Fleur, stop that. We need to finish our talk."

"'arry." The stern tone of his voice clearly surprised the girl, but she didn't stop her treatment.

"I said 'enough'." A slightly depressed and frightened look crossed the lovely girl's face as she realized her lover wasn't in the mood to play… not enough at least. She was aware at that point that at least some part of him was very much in the mood.

"I don't understand. We 'aven't in almost a week and you want to talk?"

In response, Harry pulled the veela's limbs from under his clothes.

"We'll fool around after but if you don't want to talk now, you know where to find me when you do." Commented the Gryffindor with a very forced indifferent voice as he started to get up.

The response was instant as Fleur leaped forward to drag Harry back into the sofa.

"Please don't leave…I'll talk."

Seeing her love gazing at her coolly didn't raise her confidence much but at least he wasn't going to walk away.

"What would you like to know, master?"

Times like now, the position of authority that Harry found himself in seemed appropriate.

"What you promised to tell me that night? Your behavior that night and now? What you think happened to me, and what do you think of our future?" Harry listed off the top of his head.

Fleur nodded with bowed head as if in deep thought.

"Dezpite ze amount of attention the wizards of the magical 'orld pay us, most know very little about the veela. You know how it'z assumed we are only female right?"

Harry nodded. "And I have wondered how your species prevent itself from going extinct by being bred out especially since I don't think you are immortal or asexual."

Fleur couldn't help but smile at her lover's keen observation skills.

"Zat iz correct. We reproduce sexually and we do age, albeit much more slowly than 'uman wizardz and witches. You'll see when you meet my mama and papa."

Harry instinctively filed the fact that his lover said 'when' rather than 'if' to the back of his mind.

"Ze truth iz zat while malez can't 'normally' be veela, they can carry the gene so that their daughterz can be veela. But more importantly, one thing most wizard bookz don't talk or talk very little about iz that the veela gene iz very, very strong. Muggle genetic theorists came clozest to describing it in a concept called super-dominance. (1)"

Some information stored in Harry's mind clicked.

"I think I have heard of the concept. I take that it relates to how a progeny, in this case a female with even a faint trace of the veela gene will likely be part veela with a tendency to exhibit the full features of a pure veela?"

Fleur was really impressed now. Mate's checklist: check for intelligence. Harry only smiled with a hint of smugness. While he never made it known to Hermione, he always found some things of muggle studies to be fascinating, especially their scientific and technological research. The magical world could learn a lot from these so-called 'normal' people.

"Zat iz mostly correct. But in addition to super-dominance, the success of the veela breed iz also dependent on shrewd mating choices. Veela females, and to a lesser extent, veela gene carrying males naturally seek out the most potent partner to mate and procreate with."

Harry frowned slightly as it started to make sense now.

"It'z why I choze you. I knew you would be strong."

"I guess I should be flattered." Muttered the young boy even though secretly he really was flattered. How many boys his age had the luck of getting jumped by a gorgeous, foreign, exotic, and older natural blonde?

"That doesn't explain why you attacked me though." His veela lover blushed in response as she tried to apologize. "…I'm not blaming you necessarily, just wondering."

"The same factorz zat drive super-dominance and our mate selecting habits also make us sexually dominant creatures. Also contrary to public belief, in a normal mated relationship with a human, a female veela iz always sexually dominant, though she may and often does chooze to be subservient in other placez such as public life."

Harry had a really bad feeling about this. "But you called me master…"

"True, master; because instead of the other way around you managed to dominate me. And very thoroughly too, I might add." The veela giggled as her lover groaned.

"Tell me what I think you mean to tell me even if I'm going to regret it."

"I'm pretty sure, no, I know for sure zat you must be a **_male veela_**, 'arry." Fleur deadpanned.

'_Aw…Bloody, fucking hell. How in the blazes does this always happen to me?'_ In his mind, Harry screamed, yelled, shouted and cursed.

"What does that mean exactly? Am I like you, or what?"

"Yes, in a way the male veela is similar to the normal female veela, but he is also much, MUCH more than simply a male equivalent of itz female namesake. Wordz like special and unique don't even dezcribe the chance of a male veela living at any point in time. It'z so rare zat most of the wizarding world 'az dizmissed it as urban legend. There'z no logical basis or explanation for their existence. The last one iz rumored to 'ave lived around 1000 yearz ago and there'z no proven written record of him, though there are speculationz of hidden texts and diaries."

"Ok…so?"

Here, the girl paused for a moment and Harry's curiosity got the better of him.

"Spit it out, Fleur."

"The male veela is extremely powerful. In fact, most of the non-human magical world considerz the male veela to be somezing like a messiah or divinely chozen prophet leader. When they learn about you, I suppoze zome might even view you to be a god like the vampire god Amara or the werewolf king Lycaeus."

As Harry's mind seemed to have frozen, he missed the slight depression in his Fleur's voice. After all, this revelation really took the cake as far as surprises go. And as he saw the look of awe and adoration on this veritable goddess's face, the oh-so courageous Gryffindor golden boy just about lost his it.

"I'm sorry for my recent bouts of disrespect, master. Please forgive your humble slave. Would you now like me to address you with a more appropriate term? Perhaps Masterful Excellency or Revered Divineship?"

The fact that Fleur sounded perfectly serious and even a little frightened as if she had somehow grievously injured him really, really freaked Harry out. The only thing that prevented the 4th year student from running out the door and screaming down the hall was the fact that the veela girl was now almost spread out on top of him and had him effectively pinned in place.

Brutally forcing himself to focus and rationalize the situation, Harry got over his initial shock. Somehow, he suspected that Fleur may be over blowing things. Being unique is one thing, being some sort of god is another. On the other hand, the whole thing is oddly reminiscent of the wizarding world's reaction to his lightning bolt show at age one.

"Ahm that's ok…anything else?"

'_Please say no_…' Harry prayed.

"Oui. Pleaze for your own safety, don't tell the wizarding world anyzing, not Dumbledore or your friendz, pleaze. I beg of you."

The raven-haired boy sighed. He should have guessed there was something but at least this is an interesting warning. While Harry had no intention in spreading this new information around, Fleur seemed extra scared that he might.

"Why's that? You said the magical world considered me to be something of a deity."

"The non-magical yes; vampires, werewolves, fairies, and, of course us, veela." Here the older girl gave a cheeky grin, which Harry found to be much more pleasant than the timid mouse routine he'd been getting through out this long talk.

"But the 'uman wizarding world 'ould despize you and most likely hunt you down. Every single male veela of legend 'az opposed if not waged war against human wizardz and witches. The last male veela, Thanatos, waz rumored to hav 'ad waged a bloody conflict against the wizarding factions of Salazar and Gryffindor, both founders of Hogwartz I believe?"

"Yeah, but I don't recall hearing anything about a war where they were on the same side." Granted, Harry never did pay attention in History of Magic with Binns, but he doubt he or others would have missed something that would have sent the Hogwarts student body into uproar. Gryffindor and Slytherin as allies? That's blasphemy and some would likely argue against the fundamental laws of magic themselves.

"It'z not somezing human text books would talk about, and even amongst the non human magical populations, it'z kept mostly secret. But I thought you dezerved to know."

'_Talk about turning your world upside down.'_ Harry mused how by virtue of something he has no control over, he's now turned once again or will be turned once again from hero to villain in the wizarding world.

"Fleur, look at me. Even though I don't like it, I really appreciate that you are telling me this." The veela nodded, pleased that she wouldn't be punished for being the bearer of bad news.

"There's someone powerful here at Hogwarts that thinks I'm the perfect puppet for his plans. When I learned about what he has done; what he's doing; I felt so much anger, rage and even hate so that I really want him to suffer. I want my puppet master to suffer badly. Fleur, I …love you and I love you as a person, not just as a sex slave, concubine or whatever."

The veela felt as if her heart wanted to leap out of her chest, but forced herself to remain calm and attentive.

"But, please for both of our sake, don't ever make me see you as a puppet master."

Let it not be said that Fleur Delacour was simply another pretty face. For all her supposedly 'ditziness' and her mimicry of a generic airhead and though not necessarily the most skilled or able fighter as shown by her performance in the Tri-wizard tournament, the veela was still fairly talented and very intelligent. She knew this was the one golden rule Harry Potter has and had a pretty good guess as to who the master puppeteer was.

"I'll remember zat 'arry. May I ask, iz zis person…iz it Dumbledore?"

Fleur smiled slightly as the Gryffindor looked genuinely impressed.

"How did you know?"

"I sensed 'im brushing against my mind once and he retreated when he realized I waz shielded. I told Madame Maxime but I don't think she did anyzing. It never 'appened again but I waz suspicious ever since."

Harry's eyebrows arched upwards as if he thought he caught something on his Slytherin radar.

"Was this before the first task?"

"Why yes."

'_That conniving bastard_…'

"He used Hagrid to run interference." Seeing Fleur's momentarily look of confusion, Harry explained. "Hagrid's our half giant groundskeeper who's dating your headmistress. I saw them getting cozy before the first event."

Fleur's face took on an expression of understanding before darkening. Harry nodded.

"He's good, alright. But how did you get to be an occlumens?" This was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. Harry had been somewhat concerned about Fleur's mind being open and vulnerable to attack. The girl smiled.

"It'z one of the benefitz zat comez with being a veela. You 'av it too, I believe."

"Are there other benefits?" Asked Harry absent mindedly, but blushed as Fleur answered 'of course' with an impish grin.

"Come here, you."

The two teens fooled around on the sofa, teasing and tickling each other until they were a laughing, squealing mess. Eventually their excitement wore off as they snuggled against each other on the comfortable leather as only two lovers can, enjoying each other's light caresses.

"Since you have been honest with me, I should do the same, especially since it appears you can guard your mind." A serious look came over Harry as he pulled Fleur up and held her at arms length.

"Something happened on the day of the 3rd task when I was portkeyed to Voldemort…" To the veela's credit, Fleur didn't flinch, but then again, she was a foreigner and Harry suspected that Voldemort wasn't exactly big news over on the continent. Not yet anyways, though based on the plans Harry extracted from his nemesis's memories that could change. This is it. Of all the things he was unsure of, knowledge of his new association with the Dark Lord was one he didn't particularly want to share with anyone, even his lover.

"He had one of his servant draw some of my blood to resurrect himself." The blonde gasped. "As soon as the ritual was performed, I immediately began to absorb Voldemort's memories, though the process wasn't complete until around next morning after you left. Do you think that had anything to do with me being a male veela? To be truthful I still am not sure about that especially since as you said not a lot is known about them. And how come all this has only been happening recently?"

"Male 'veela' iz not a race or breed, like female veela rather it'z a state of being. A pre-matured male veela could in theory be a male from any race and there'z 'ints of a defensive mechanism that keepz them from 'arm before their magical maturity. Though I don't see 'ow obtaining _Vous Savez Qui_'s memoriez may 'av 'elped you."

"Say Voldemort."

"Excuze-moi?"

"Say Voldemort, not the you-know-who crap or its French equivalent." As much as he hated to admit it, but Dumbledore was right about the fearing one's name thing, though he was fairly sure his lover only avoided saying his name because of conventions and not out of any sense of fear attached to the name. Fleur, nevertheless, nodded in understanding.

"But I think I understand now. Gaining Voldemort's knowledge and experience allowed me to successfully duel and escape the Death Eaters that night and it would be a perfect compliment to the power boast I acquired…assuming I'm really this male veela you speak of. Are you sure about that?"

"Oui, ze more I think about it, ze more I'm certain. In fact, I'm sure zat you magically matured into a male veela and bonded me to you at the same time."

Harry winced. Though it has led him to being bonded with the gorgeous and talented veela before him now, he was nevertheless horrified with how he had acted, even if it had been in virtual reality and even if it seemed as if he was fed potent aphrodisiac-like air while there.

"'arry, I told you it'z not your fault. I waz the one who forced myself on you."

"Yeah, but… you didn't succeed, I did… and beside when you say 'force,' you are over-emphasizing how it might have been against my own will. I only resisted because I thought giving in meant I would be abandoning the fight against Voldemort."

Harry's self-deprecating statement won him a million watt smile from the veela girl, much to the Gryffindor student's confusion.

"Oh, 'arry. Don't you see. Zis iz what makez you so special. Besides, what makez you think you did anyzing against my will. Even though you were rather enthusiastic, I wanted it. Ze world'z most dominant veela would kill to be your slave like me, 'arry." The girl stated with a sigh of contentment. Harry smiled, but shrewdly tried hard not to let that statement inflate his undoubtedly already inflated ego. After all, pride comes before the fall.

"So you are ok with me having parts of an evil dark wizard in me?"

"Memoriez, not partz, 'arry. Besidez I wouldn't care if you were one yourself, az long az I can be there beside you."

"But…" Fleur shushed him with a finger to the lips.

"You'll understand az you learn about what you are. Besides as a veela, you'll be much more sexually charged. You 'av realized zis yes?"

Harry nodded. "Just for the record, I really couldn't stand not being with you, Fleur. I needed you like I needed air, but I didn't want to seem like I was using you just for sex."

"Thank you, 'arry, but you are wrong. You didn't need me, you needed sex, though you might 'av preferred your partner to be me, someone else would 'av been fine." Fleur held up a hand to stop Harry's fervid protestations.

"It'z who you are, 'arry. Male veela alwayz 'ad multiple partners." From all the text, rumors and legends, that singular quality of the male veela was unambiguous and universally agreed upon.

"But I only want you." The conversation most definitely took a surreal turn when the woman was all but telling the guy to get a harem while the guy was trying to dissuade himself of the notion. For Fleur, it was very endearing but she couldn't bring herself to feel too good about it considering the two possible kinds of result: At best, it meant she would have to share her lover; but at worst, she could lose him altogether to other girls after her. Could she survive that latter nightmare? Could she survive being separated from her joy? The veela shivered mentally. No, absolutely not…

It made what she had to say next all the more difficult, but she must. She promised that she would not hide anything from him.

"You'll want otherz, 'arry. You 'ad hot flashes of other girlz, yes?" Asked Fleur seriously. Harry only managed to nod numbly.

"It'z your body reacting to the lack of release. It'z why I thought you were wiz otherz. For while I know you mean well, I didn't think you would be strong enough to resist. I waz wrong, 'arry. You were stronger than I could imagine…but even you can only resist for so long…"

"And when we leave school…" Harry trailed off.

"I can try to arrange for you to come to France or me to come back 'ere sometime later in the summer, but I would most likely not see you for weekz if not months… not if we want to remain secret." Considering Harry lasted less than a week, (he had no doubt what will happen at the end of their talk) the fact that he'd be having sex with other girls during the summer need not be said.

Once again, Harry nodded numbly.

"What about you, Fleur? Will you…" He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought.

Fleur blinked in confusion for a few seconds before she realized what her younger lover was concerned about.

"No, 'arry. I'm yourz remember?" Harry of course knew but he couldn't quite wrap his mind around this asymmetric relationship. The veela found Harry impossibly cute as he tried to work out what it all meant for him. If they were normal, Fleur knew she would have held on to him like a life preserver. Alas, that was not to be, but even then it might not be too bad in the end. For all her reservations, Fleur knew that she had picked the best man possible to guide her into in the world of polygamous relationships.

"So if you won't sleep around…why do I have to? That doesn't seem fair." Stripped off the need for Voldemort's knowledge and experience or the need to be sly and cunning, Harry ultimately was still a 14 year old… going on 40 of course.

Yep, best man possible indeed…Fleur thought with a smile.

"Life'z not fair, but I'll be ok. I'm not 'appy about what you'll do…but I understand and I can live wiz it."

Harry sighed. Something like this normally should have been exciting and arousing but for Harry it resembled a nightmare. But he still needed to be shrewd and logical about this. The last thing he needed was to alienate and hurt Fleur further by letting emotions and hormones guide him.

"So, where am I supposed to find another goddess to take your place Fleur?"

Harry asked and as expected, the veela forgot her woes temporally and blushed prettily.

"When the need iz great enough, you'll know, 'arry. Do you have any idea of who you'll…?" Fleur trailed off in her question, trying but definitely not succeeding in keeping her tone nonchalant.

"To be truthful, I have no idea. Would muggle girls work?" Offered Harry half jokingly, half seriously. Considering he hasn't got a single friend much less potential girlfriend thanks to Dudley's crew and his uncle and aunt, he didn't put much stock in that statement.

"Zat would be perfect!"

"Excuse me?" The Gryffindor boy almost choked on air and his own saliva.

"Well… zat'z what I would have preferred. Becauze mugglez are not magical, if you 'av sex wiz them, they could not bond wiz you even accidentally nor could they…" Fleur blushed at the end as she turned away.

"… Steal me away from you?" Harry ventured a guess. The reddening of the blush confirmed his guess. He rightly guessed that the beautiful girl, despite everything he said, could not but feel slightly apprehensive and afraid of the future. Unfortunately, it seems as if there wasn't much he could do at this point to reassure her.

"I didn't want to manipulate you to choose your partners." The Gryffindor boy nodded in understanding.

"That's true, but this situation is unique. If I have to have this harem or orgy thing, the least I could do is let the girls already in it have a say as to who I should let in." Harry was glad to see that this condition cheered his companion up, even if it was just a bit.

"Still there's the matter that I'm suppose to what… use these muggle girls like prostitutes? Use 'em and discard 'em, right?" Fleur had no answer for that, and Harry found himself swearing not for the last time that day. It was a classic damned if he did, damned if he didn't… and all it mattered was who else was he going to damn with him.

"This is messed up Fleur. How am I supposed to look another girl in the eye from now on when chances are I'll be seeing her as a piece of meat?"

"It wouldn't be zat bad, 'arry." The veela reassured, wrapping her arm around the boy. This unlikely role reversal of comforter and comfortee was enormously empowering for Fleur. It made her needed and wanted.

"If it makez you feel any better, I'm sure it would be an experienz of a lifetime for them."

"Because of what I am?" Asked Harry a bit darkly.

"Oui, but also because of _'who'_ you are. You would make sure they enjoy it, and they will. Zat'z more than what most can expect from other boys or men for ze rest of their livez." Fleur stated smoothly with self-professed candor. Harry nodded.

"Even so, what about you? Would the bond hurt you or cause you pain when I'm with another?"

"I don't think so or else a male veela's 'arem would never survive. In fact, I believe ze bond would allow me to feel a bit of what you feel so az long az you like the girl, go ahead, it might do me some good as well."

Fleur laughed at seeing his expression.

"You are so easy, sometimez, 'arry."

"Am I now." Grinned Harry impishly as he did something that caused the veela to shriek in surprise.

"Wha…what are you doing, 'arry?" The foreign girl knew exactly what he was doing of course.

Harry thought deeply for a second. Like the fateful night of the 3rd task, much has happened today. Part of him want to just lie down and not think about anything for days, but another part is very well aware that he was alone, with an absolute dynamite of a girl, with no chance of interruption and that part was very interested in moving on to more interesting things.

"We aren't going to see each other in a while, right?" A nod.

"And I have neglected you lately haven't I?" A more hesitant nod.

"I thought I better make up for it then." Fleur's bright blue eyes opened wide as she squealed.

"I have made you scream before. Let's see if I can make you squeal just like that."

After muttering something along the lines of 'mon dieu,' the veela then surrendered herself to her lover's sweet kisses as he deftly disrobed her.

Sometime later…

Fleur moaned again as Harry nipped at her neck tenderly.

"Are you sure you want me to leave, 'arry?"

Two hours later, Harry decided to call it quits, deciding to take pity on the poor veela girl, who had already been knocked unconscious twice. After waking up, said veela then extracted a promise from her lover to not attempt to practice abstinence again least he literally shag her or some other poor girl to death with all that pent up sexual energy. Harry thought that was mighty hilarious…until he noticed he was the only one laughing

"Hmm…yesss." Harry answered rather hesitantly after giving an exaggerated agonizing sigh of defeat. The veela laughed as he finally released the still half naked veela, allowing her to dress unhindered. Watching the beautiful girl putting on her bra and then fit back into her school robes, Harry realized that watching a girl dress was almost as if not more arousal than seeing one undress. Of course, he had to fight extra hard the urge to ripe the clothing off as that would have been counterproductive. And despite all odds, Harry managed to restrain himself and got dressed as well.

"So, see you soon, like tomorrow?"

"Of course, 'arry."

Harry smiled in response. They wasted a lot of time recently and he wanted to make sure the veela girl was seeing stars throughout the summer or at least until they meet up again.

"Should I come to find you?" The Slytherin minded Gryffindor thought about it. It probably wouldn't do for him to be caught sneaking around areas of the Ravenclaw dorm, which was where the Beauxbatons students were staying. At the same time, he didn't want Fleur wandering the halls alone and without a guide.

"Here take this." Motioning Fleur closer, he pulled out his Marauder map.

"What'z zis?"

"Watch. I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good. Cool huh?"

"Wow, zis iz fantastique! I can zee everyone."

"A gift. It has an interesting history, which I might tell sometime. Use that to find me from now until the end of the school year." Just to make sure, Harry uttered a spell to automatically highlight him on the map.

"'_I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good_' is the activation phrase. To close it, say '_Mischief managed_'."

Harry handed Fleur the map and gave her a kiss on the lips.

"See you tomorrow."

"Of course, master." The veela gave him a naughty smile while pinching him, causing the boy to jump slightly in surprise. Harry made a show of chasing the laughing vixen as she dodged out the doorway.

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Ten minutes later, a very satisfied Harry was walking down the hall, lightly whistling a cheerful tune. Nothing could ruin his mood at this point, not after two hours of great makeup --

"Potter!" Out of habit, Harry winced as he saw the pampered ferret flanked by Dwindle Dumb and Dwindle Dumber stroll arrogantly towards him. Looking around, the Gryffindor realized he had in his absent-mindedness somehow wandered close to the dungeons. He could see several Slytherins on the peripherals of his vision and sensed about half a dozen or so more nearby. He was a lion in a snake's nest. What fun!

Harry's smile grew as he folded his arms behind him.

"Now that the dark lord's back, he'll make you pay, Potter."

"Ah, Malfoy, old chum… how's your old man?" His rival's cheerful greeting caused the haughty Slytherin aristocrat to redden with anger. Harry guessed from the fury on his school enemy's face that Malfoy Senior had the misfortune (or fortune depending on one's point of view) of being burned that night but as his clumsy son hadn't tried to curse him yet, he guessed the elder Malfoy wasn't one of the fatalities… pity.

"You… you'll pay for it, Potter!" Harry rolled his eyes.

"So you have told me repeatedly. But I can't help but notice that after four years I'm still here." Harry said all this, turned away from the angry blond, as if he wasn't worthy of his attention. The Gryffindor knew that this casual dismissal of the narcissist and pompous boy would be an inexcusably offense in his eyes.

"You…!" Harry was sure the foolish Slytherin was prepared to raise his wand against him until a strange light passed over his eyes. The Gryffindor tensed as he realized what it was…Snivelus. Harry felt his wand grow hot within his robe pocket but forced himself to remain calm.

"Come on Potter. Let's settle this here and now." Taunted Draco. Harry chuckled at the obvious attempt to egg him on, calmly looking at him and then at his two sidekicks before returning his attention to his school enemy.

"I don't think so. It would be much too unfair for you and your cronies." He could feel the slimy git behind him seconds away from blowing the casket at 'Potter's arrogance'. Let him attack, let him overestimate himself and underestimate the Potter offspring, let him…

"Oi, Harry Potter!" All the would-be combatants turned to see half a dozen or so girls in light sky blue Beauxbatons uniforms run up to them.

"Yes?" Harry ventured, looking at the gaggle of French students, while keeping the rest of his senses on the Slytherins around him. Most seemed vaguely anxious, some looked at the dungeon and at the Slytherins around them with distain and disgust, while a few were looking at him with an unusual amount of interest. He really, really hoped Fleur hadn't been talking about them.

"'arry!" Harry heard a brief squeal of excitement before he clomped by small girl with silver blonde hair like her sister.

"Gabrielle?" That was all he managed before the precious eight-yea-old spitfire started running off mixed French-English sentences and phrases. It was five minutes, before a flustered Harry finally calmed the hyperactive child down.

"What are you doing down here? I didn't take you bunch to be terribly fond of snakes." Harry smiled wickedly as he felt the Slytherins heat up with anger, but unable to do anything about it.

"10 points from Gryffindor for --"

"For what, Professor Snape? I was only offering a speculation to our lovely foreign guests." The potions master glared back, knowing that he can't do anything, but nevertheless willing the impudent Gryffindor to whither under the intensity of his stare. Harry only smiled, completely unperturbed at the appearance of the hated teacher. The Beauxbatons females watched wearied, sensing the hostilities directed at the sole Gryffindor fourth year student, but unwilling to distance themselves from him. One because, their oblivious pint sized charge was currently all over the English boy. And two, because they would rather take their chance with the famed champion of Hogwarts than with these shady looking characters crawling in the dark.

"Excusez-moi, it appears as if we are lost and are looking for a way back to the Ravenclaw common room." A calm feminine voice called out in perfect English with only a hint of a French accent.

"Of course, Draco Malfoy will happily escort you back." The Slytherin head of house drawled. The Beauxbatons girls turned to see the Slytherin make an exaggerated gesture of puffing his chest out. Most were not amused at the looks the Slytherin male had. The same girl looked back at Snape dead in the eye.

"Actually, we would prefer that Harry Potter show us the way. That is if he's not busy, of course."

Seeing the pleading looks from young Gabrielle and a few of the other girls, Harry had no problem acquiescing to the demand, much to the fury of the Slytherins. The young Malfoy looked like he had swallowed a bug.

"I would be happy to." He gestured for the ladies to go first as he turned to the side, so that he was facing both Snape and Malfoy. He guessed that while a couple of the older Slytherins might be more problematic than Malfoy in a fight, it was these two that would ultimately cause one. If he watched these two and unsettled them enough so that they would think twice about attacking him, Harry doubted any one else would cause a problem. Once the last girl was just about to go out of sight, Harry spoke with the same smile on his face.

"By your leave then, professor." The Slytherin head of house nodded stiffly as Harry jogged off.

Harry audibly heard several gasps of relief as they exited the dungeon area. Mounting a few stairs and they soon came to a portrait of Morgan le Fey. Normally one wasn't told about the location of where the other houses were located, but with the exception of the Slytherins, the other houses were pretty loose about who knows where they are. Harry learned where the Ravenclaw common room was soon after that night with Fleur.

"I find it hard to believe that all of you could have wandered so far down, especially with such a young child."

The same girl, who stood up to Snape, looked at him up and down.

"No, my friend ran off somewhere so I was looking after her sister. But then someone informed me that one of the Beauxbatons' students might be in trouble in the dungeons with some Slytherin boys. I took a few of my friends to rescue her. Alas… Gabrielle tagged along." Dark looks crossed the girls' faces as Harry finally noticed the sullen tear stained face of a pretty brunette who didn't look to be older than him.

"Luckily, nothing had happened when we arrived." Harry nodded. It didn't surprise him considering what kind of filth some of the Slytherins' parents were, but it did surprise him that they might try this on a foreign guest.

"I'm terribly sorry for the behavior of my fellow schoolmates." Stated Harry sincerely. "Ah miss?"

The frightened girl shrinked back instead, making Harry feel distinctively uneasy.

"That's Sophia. I'm Regine, senior prefect of Beauxbatons." Answered the young woman as she offered one of her elegant, slender hand.

Relived to see that these pretty and mostly older French girls felt no hostility against him, Harry decided that it probably wouldn't hurt to charm them up a bit.

"Enchanté, mademoiselle." Greeted Harry in what he hoped was acceptable Parisian French as he took the offered hand and bent down to lightly kiss it. The act seemed to have worked as all the girls seemed on the verge of squealing in excitement. Regine was more composed, but Harry could see the mirth dancing in her crystal blue eyes.

"A gentleman and a knight… in an Englishman too… You need not apologize, Harry. You don't mind if I call you that, do you?"

"Of course not, what kind of guy would mind a lovely girl calling him by his first name." Lovely didn't do the vision of beauty before him enough credit. The girl could almost pass as Fleur's double…almost being the key word as the veela carried a certain flare of exotic, super-human beauty that no human could match. But aside from the slightly different shade of blonde hair, a fraction of a coloring off in the eyes, and perhaps being an inch or so shorter and less curvy, Harry had to admit objectively that the French prefect was as hauntingly beautiful and gorgeous in the same categories as his veela lover. Of course, he would never admit it to Fleur, unless this was one of the 'friends' she was talking about.

Harry had to try very, very hard to pull himself from going down 'THAT' track. Whether the French girl then laughed because of his remark of because she sensed his previous thought, he wasn't sure of. But he waged a mighty battle before succeeding in defeating his natural instinct to blush.

"It is we, who are indebted to you for your help, Harry Potter."

"Though I'm not certain if my help was necessary." Harry countered as he glanced down towards where he sensed Regine had kept her wand, hidden behind her back just centimeters away from her fingers. The blonde prefect didn't respond, but Harry could tell that his keen observation had impressed the girl.

"'arry. Sign an autograph… so I can show Fleur?" Giggled Gabrielle as she produced a postcard for Harry to sign. Seeing their youngest step forward, several other girls seemed then to have gathered the courage to approach him for autographs as well.

The 14-year-old boy blinked. This wasn't what he expected, but seeing the expectant wide eyes expression on little Gabby, Harry found he didn't have the heart to say no. Thirty minutes later after some more small talk, the exhausted Beauxbatons students decided to return to their assigned dormitory. Several bid Harry _adieu_ while giving him rather lecherous grins. Gabrielle motioned Harry down where she kissed him on the cheek before disappearing through the Ravenclaw door. A blushing Sophia followed suit to the light laughter and amusement of her schoolmates. Finally only Regine and Harry remained.

"Fleur was right. You really are one of a kind, Harry."

"My fellow champion has been…talking about me?" Questioned Harry trying to be as nonchalant as possible. He hoped he had succeeded, but feared he didn't given the Regine's widening smile.

"My friend thinks fondly of you, and she says that your various skills and abilities are very 'impressive'." Giving a light laugh, the Beauxbatons prefect disappeared before Harry could ask what she meant by that.

Left standing alone in the empty hallway, Harry wondered if he should be concerned with the turn of events. On one hand he really preferred that no one knows about him and Fleur, but on the other hand even if he assumed Regine knew, it didn't look like that would be too bad a thing, especially as she seemed more interested in joining them than using their relationship as blackmail material. Should he be pleased with that thought, or be disturbed that he was so willing to 'lay wild oats' so soon after being with Fleur?

Bah, Fleur pretty much told him to just let it be…right?

'_I'm probably over thinking this in any case.'_ Harry thought as he cleared his mind. Fleur's one in a million, but her friend too…a bit far fetched even for him. But no matter what, it seemed that the Beauxbatons prefect knew something was up. She also seemed like the protective type…marching into the snake's nest to retrieve an underclassman. So maybe he could help them a bit in order to add a little more incentive for Regine to, well… at the very least like him. With that thought in mind, Harry marched off towards the headmaster's office.

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"Headmaster! You can't believe this boy's nonsense…it's utterly --!"

"And the words of self-interested Slytherins are more believable --"

"Gentlemen, please." Albus called out. Snape spluttered for a few more seconds, until a harsh glare from the old man silenced the wayward potions master. Harry quieted immediately. This was what he expected so there was no reason for him to waste his energy on this. He knew he was in the right and as long as he kept calm, Dumbledore had no choice but to give in.

"Severus?"

"This is ludicrous. My students have assured me that they were perfectly honorable in their treatment to our foreign guest and that any course of action, of which none did occur, would have been consensual." Snape shot a hateful glare at Harry, who calmly ignored it.

"Harry?"

"With all due respect sir, the word 'consensual' means awfully little when there's half a dozen 6th and 7th year boys surrounding a single 14 year old girl, don't you think?"

A red-faced Snape jumped to his feet.

"This is slander! The boy has no proof. Why have none of the girls come forward?"

Recalling memory of what Fleur said about Dumbledore trying to mind probe her.

"I think it has to do with the fact that they don't think you'll do anything, sir. They are probably going to avoid coming out, then write to their own ministry when they go home about the appalling behavior of some Hogwarts students. Then, the British ministry's going to be involved, who would force the board of governors to act, which would conduct an investigation on the school. But I'm sure you can deal with that."

Snape paled dramatically as Dumbledore sank in his chair. Harry could see that he hit on something. Forever, good, benevolent and forgiving Dumbledore didn't want the board involved.

"That's an interesting analysis, my boy. Care to tell us how you would know so much?" The wizened mage asked suspiciously. Harry pointedly avoided looking either figure directly in the eye.

"Here and there and I have talked with the Beauxbatons champion since the tournament. She wasn't too impressed with our school or with the teaching staff, sir." Harry decided to use Dumbledore's own technique against him and told a half-truth to ward off suspicion rather than make up a lie outright.

"I see." Dumbledore noted with an indeterminate look.

"Oh, come on, what do you suggest we do Potter? There's no evidence of wrong doing by my students." Snape challenged. Harry smiled before responding smoothly.

"Yet, there was clearly a perceived instance of hostile intent, such that honored foreign guests felt threatened and unsafe while residing with us. Sir, don't you feel that it would only be right and courteous if the appropriate figures of authority made the appropriate public and private apologies?" Harry tilted his head in an obvious motion towards Snape.

"Why, you insolent brat!" The potions master advanced on the Gryffindor 4th year with his wand drawn.

"Severus!" Dumbledore stood up, radiating power outwards in such amount that even Harry felt Goosebumps run along his neck. He was impressed, but did well to hide it.

As the headmaster dropped back down into his chair, Harry knew he had won. As much as he was willing to accommodate Snape the horrific actions of his students, Dumbledore could not and would not tolerate the possibility that some outside force might come in and indefinitely usurp control of the school. Dumbledore most likely would have come to the same conclusion of making an apology without Harry's interference, but by taking the logic of the argument as his own, he ensured that Snape would be inherently against any attempt at reconcile with Beauxbatons, making Dumbledore's job that much harder. Harry had in essence helped drive a wedge between Snape and Dumbledore, which in his book was a very good thing.

"Thank you, Harry. We shall take what you have said under consideration. Is there anything else you wish to talk about?" The headmaster added hopefully. Harry shook his head while resisting the urge to scowl. How many times in the past did he feel the urge to admit all his wrong doings and innermost secrets at a similar question from the old wizard? Too many, most likely.

"You may go then." The headmaster stated, dismissing him with far more cheer than was appropriate. Tossing his hated professor a dark look only he could see, the Gryffindor exited, quite pleased with what he had accomplished.

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"Listen, you bitch. If I find out you lost me that pussy…." Potter's ears straightened with interest as he heard loud voices arguing.

"You can't find your own dick if someone pointed it out for you…"

"Shut up, you lesbian mudblood-loving slut." Hearing frantic shuffling of feet, Harry sprinted closer to the source of the noise. Being the Gryffindor golden boy he was, Harry couldn't really ignore the possibility of a bully forcing himself on an innocent girl.

"I'll teach you a lesson, you…" Harry leaped from around the corner, wand raised, and a vicious curse on his lips…

… to see the large Slytherin boy, most likely a 7th year student, hunched over in what looked like a painful position. A short girl stood beside him, a sneer plastered over her face and her foot raised so that it looked like she had kneed the bigger male right in the…

"Ouch." Harry felt him wince in sympathy as the tall brute slumped over, his hands clutching his family jewel as he curled up in a fetal position.

"What do you want, Potter?"

Harry blinked at the hostile tone and the wand pointed at him. He slowly pocketed his wand and then raised his hands to show that he meant no harm.

"I heard some noise and thought you might need some help." Harry tried to smile charmingly, but the girl didn't drop her cold countenance. Harry was impressed. Though he wasn't really directing any of his powers, it was still the first time a girl didn't melt before the newly minted male veela.

'_Guess being a veela has its limits_.' Thought Harry, not sure if he should be pleased or disappointed. But wait, it could also be because she was not attracted to him…or males in general, right?

"Sorry that your assistance is not needed, Saint Potter. I can take care of myself."

Harry frowned at the sneering tone. Looking at the Slytherin robes and then taking in the sharp features framed by long strands of jet-black hair, he made the connection.

"Daphne Greengrass."

"Bravo. The high and mighty Gryffindor Golden prince knows humble little old me. I feel _so_ honored."

Of course, Daphne didn't sound honored at all. More like…annoyed or irritated. For some reason, Harry only smiled wider in response, finding the sharp and witty Slytherin's distain for him to be quite refreshing, much to the amazement of his schoolmate.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"I guess I should thank you." Dark brown eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What for?"

He was taking a rather wild guess, but he was fairly sure he was right.

"Those Beauxbatons upper class girls wouldn't have known one of their own was in trouble unless someone tipped them off, which their prefect confirmed for me. As our mutual friend here…" Harry lightly tapped the unconscious boy with his foot. "…probably guessed, that person was you."

Daphne scowled, clearly not pleased a Gryffindor worked it out.

"Yeah, with brutes and scum like these around, I was just looking out for my own, what about it Potter?"

"Your own? As in the girls? Calm down, your personal life's your own business. I didn't mean to offend you or anything." Offered Harry neutrally as the Slytherin girl dropped into a defensive stance.

"Get real, you think I'm offended these fools call me a lesbian? I'm one of the smart ones, Potter; something I can't say for all your fan girls. You guys are all the same, even if you just happen to have gotten a tad smarter and smoother than the rest of the lot. I'm sure you enjoyed being fawned over by those French chicks, right?"

Deciding that there was no easy answer for that, Harry opted for remaining silent.

"I'll be watching you, Potter." The black haired, Ice Queen of Slytherin sneered before walking off. Off handedly, Harry wondered what caused the pretty girl to be the misandrist she was today…and if he could change her worldview.

Harry shook himself of that crazy thought. Of all the girls that would undoubtedly fall for him and he thinks about going after the one who wouldn't. What a joke… But he probably should keep an eye on her all the same. He doubted the cunning Slytherin would take kindly to him taking dozens of Hogwarts females into his harem and he was certain she was clever enough to make trouble for him if she wanted or felt the need to.

Still, that was another problem far in the future… when he got a harem for one. So, with memories of his earlier time with Fleur and the smiling faces of her fellow Beauxbatons schoolmates, Harry strolled back towards Gryffindor common room, whistling a light tune. Life for the first male veela in a millennium looked to be going just fine.

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(1) I made this up for plot purposes.


	4. Leaving Feast

**Posted: 1/13/2006**

**Beta: Yogert**

Huge, HUGE thanks to **Yogert** for providing insights, pointing out plot holes and for his valiant efforts to keep my story in character. Needless to say, I don't think he succeeded as much as he liked.

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**Chapter 4: Leaving Feast**

The next week or so, Harry fell into a routine … of sorts. Early morning to lunchtime was quiet time, when Harry studied privately, meditated on Voldemort's memories and mentally planned for the future. Lunch to early afternoon, he tried to make time for friends, housemates and anyone else that desired his company. At first, he was constantly cornered by people demanding to know what happened at the graveyard. Harry, one way or another, succeeded in avoiding giving the full answer but said enough about the battle to turn most of his interrogators white as chalk. He also put to use much of his, as of yet, unused fame by chatting up a couple of well known fan girls as a means of diverting attention from that fateful day. That ended up being a mistake more times than not seeing how he often found himself swarmed. True, there were a few gems like Regine, the Beauxbatons prefect, but more likely than not he would be surrounded by silly, giggly second year students. Fleur, of course, found everything terribly hilarious when he recounted his plights to her in the afternoon.

Harry smiled. And the afternoon, of course, was the best part of his day when he and the sexy French veela rut like rabbits.

Aw¸ life was pretty good. Ever since their talk, both Harry and Fleur had come to accept what he was and their relationship. Fleur had grown back to be her amorous self when she learned that he had no interest in pursuing others while she was still around, while Harry, himself, learned to skillfully apply his Slytherin cunningness to tease and provoke the older girl in public much to her delight.

The unnatural closeness the two champions developed did turn a few heads, even though most passed it off as a result of Gabrielle's attachment to her savior. Nevertheless, a few envious males did try to make trouble. Roger Davies, Fleur's Yule Ball date loudly protested when Harry tried to sit at the Ravenclaw table. Little Gabrielle answered for the Beauxbatons girls as a whole by soundly kicking the jealous prat right in the shin and then dragged an amused Harry to sit beside her older sister while a stunned hall looked on. Prefect Davies never spoke up again against the inclusion of Harry as an honorary Ravenclaw of sort during meal times. Though there was one time when Harry asked for him to pass the sugar and Davies subsequently went red in the face, stood up angrily and noisily marched out of the hall with everyone's eyes on him.

Harry wasn't dumb enough to think Roger was finished. Here was a young man, given his intelligence and position, which could very well make trouble for him or possibly gather other liked minded Harry haters. The 4th year Gryffindor had no doubt that he could only make more enemies as time went on; especially if he started collecting the finest female specimens of Hogwarts. Guys don't take kindly to their love interest being snatched away from them; especially if the other guy already has a whole horde of them. An interesting problem to be sure.

But, as is…the subjugation of Roger Davies did effectively turn Ravenclaw House if not in Harry's favor then at least from being against him. A few chosen words with several Hufflepuffs, namely Susan, Hannah and Ernie along with a tactful and private apology to that house also caused Hufflepuff House to align firmly with Harry. As for Slytherins…well Slytherins were Slytherins.

His own Gryffindor house gave him a bit of an unpleasant surprise. He was not the least bit amused when several 5th year males made disparaging and crude remarks about him and his recent 'infatuation' – as they called it – with the French champion and her school. In fact, he was quite angry when he realized that even though most of his year was present, including all the guys and Hermione, only Hermione and Neville spoke up and Hermione only did so because, apparently, she thought the language was inappropriate. Good old Neville was his lone defender. Harry vowed to remember that act of loyalty, but as for the rest of them…

Was this the so called great Gryffindor honor and nobility? Harry had voiced his concerns to his new Beauxbatons friends and Regine provided the best answer.

"Sounds like you don't exactly fit in as a Gryffindor then. Of all the 'houses,'" Regine said the word with distain, emphasizing the point by flicking her blonde hair back. "I found those in Gryffindor to be rather prejudicial and prone to act without thinking..."

"…all except for **_you_**." Harry had a knack for trusting his instincts, so when it told him to feel Goosebumps up his back, he knew something was up. Fleur, of course, happened to be oblivious to this momentous event as she chatted cheerfully with two of her friends in French. True, all of Fleur's fellow schoolmates flirted rather openly with him, apparently with Fleur's approval because Harry just didn't see it happening otherwise, but Regine really was a special case. Maybe it was the way she licked her lips whenever her eyes looked at him as if he were a piece of meat, or the way she tried to send him as much innuendo as possible when no one was looking. But Harry knew instinctively that here was a young woman, who was not only serious, but intended to succeed. And Harry vaguely wondered if despite all logic, Fleur is not helping her friend along. So, even when the French prefect greeted him the next day as if nothing had changed, Harry knew that it was simply a matter of waiting the other shoe to fall.

But, while Fleur seemed content to ignore her friend's interest in her secret lover, she most certainly was not unaware of similar interest being shown by certain elements of Hogwarts' student body; which incidentally considered her a threat. Indeed, Harry wasn't the only one that came under undue pressure. Fleur found herself cornered many times by several cute younger girls who tried to look intimidating and demanding but couldn't quite do it in front of the enchantingly beautiful foreign veela. It was all kind of cute… for now at least.

Harry walked calmly into the Great Hall, very much aware that his entrance dampened the noise levels by quite a bit.

He sat with his house briefly, exchanging pleasantries with Ron, Hermione and several others. Ever since he's been spending time with Fleur and others at the Ravenclaw table, a certain level of aloofness seemed to permeate the air between the trio. Harry was quite aware that his old friends felt jaded and 'expected' him to take the initiative to make up. He was quite willing, if a bit unhappy, to do this until the incident in the common room. The Beauxbatons prefect's assessment made him think. Why should he make such a strong effort to repair a friendship that would seem tenuous and perhaps even fated to dissolve? Couldn't he just let it go? Well, he sure wasn't going to fight tooth and nail for it…

Seeing Fleur wave at him at the edge of his vision, Harry wished his housemates best of luck and then made his way over to the Ravenclaw table, greeting a few people he knew along the way. The first time Harry went out of his way to publicly greet students from the other houses, they stared at him as if he had grown another head. Harry thought little of it, but as he kept doing it they gradually warmed up to him. Some of the younger year students even actively greeted him whenever they saw him. At the end of the week, Harry realized he had started something new. Here he was, the archetypical Gryffindor hero, saying 'hello' and 'how are you' to normal people and people he rarely ever saw in other houses like they were 'equal.' If that didn't shore up his image, nothing else would. It brought a smile to Harry's face whenever he recalls how a flashy Slytherin 5th year student got hit with half a dozen jinx and hexes when he made a very inappropriate and inopportune comment about Harry while a mixed group of 3rd year students was passing by.

He was even able to make some headway within the lower houses of Slytherin house. What happened was that while Harry occasionally extended the same courtesy to individual or duets of the younger Slytherins, he acted as if he didn't know them in public. When one, rather indignant and unquestionably brave girl, confronted him after he waved at a Ravenclaw beside her but not her, Harry told her why. His response was that he didn't want to cause her any trouble with her housemates. He almost felt the seed of doubt being planted in the Slytherin girl and in Slytherin house soon after. It was the doubt that their constant paranoia of others and dependency on their own; their own cunningness, their own abilities and their own house might not necessarily be good.

"Hi, Harry."

"Hello, Padma." Greeted Harry in return at the smiling Indian girl.

He had first approached the twin sister of his housemate to convey an apology of sort to Parvati. Harry had wanted to make a belated apology for his behavior at the ball but found that his former date to be quite unapproachable. So one afternoon while lugging around the Ravenclaw common room, he approached the surprised girl. Harry never knew what happened to that apology as the Gryffindor girl became almost downright hostile to him. But her Ravenclaw sister, on the other hand, warmed up to him considerably and pointedly told him to avoid her sister, dismissing her as being in one of her 'moods'. Harry thought that was rather strange but thought little of it. As a result of their first liaison and given Harry's effective daytime residence in the Ravenclaw dorm, he ended up on more than one occasion caught up in a deep discussion with the intelligent and pretty dark girl. She reminded him of the better parts of Hermione, without that haughty, condescending and patronizing edge.

Just as Harry was about to speak further, a sharp voice spoke out in derision.

"One's not enough for you Potter?"

Padma, along with the other girls sitting at the table (both Ravenclaw and Beauxbatons) glared at the speaker. Most had always found the Gryffindor star seeker and hero to be quite fetching, but he really seemed to have come into his own recently. As for the rumor that Harry had murdered Cedric… Well, considering it was the likes of snake face Malfoy and thoroughly discredited and jealous Davies making the most noise about it, most were willing to give the charming Boy Who Lived the benefit of the doubt. The only lament the girls had was how the blasted French beauty queen seemed to have the new and improved Harry Potter wrapped around her finger; even if they didn't really think, or dared to think, that the two had a real relationship going. If the poor girls only knew…

Harry whirled his head around to see a rather prissy looking Roger Davies stabbing at his food. The younger boy thought within the depth of his mind. '_Perfect timing.'_

Harry had managed to deflect much of the dark feelings about him and a prevailing sense of gloominess as a result of Cedric's death, but he could also sense quite a bit of resentment and knew that some were disgusted at how carefree he was when his classmate had so recently died. This was one of the reasons why Ravenclaw house, as a whole, still wasn't exactly smitten with him.

'_Just a little longer.'_ Harry had no intention of running from what happened that night. Tonight, tonight they would get his side of the story. But before then, a little humor to lighten the mood seemed appropriate.

Putting on a devious smile, which didn't extend anywhere close to his eyes, Harry turned to give his rival/enemy his full attention.

"Excuse me? I'm not sure I know what you mean?" That was a complete lie of course, but Roger was clearly too caught up in his distain for Harry to see that it was bait. So despite being the center of decidedly negative attention, the Ravenclaw prefect plowed on right ahead into a trap.

"Shut up with the old chum routine. You know exactly what I mean, Potter! How about leaving some for the rest of us normal guys?" The disgruntled guys who foolishly grunted in support were swiftly silenced with harsh whacks from their nearest female neighbors. If the girls were annoyed before, they were now angry that Roger Davies, once thought to be one of the most popular boys in school, outright acknowledged them to be akin to possessions to be passed around and traded.

Keeping his cool demeanor and fake smile, Harry made an exaggerated show of scratching his chin as he tried to figure out what he meant.

"Ah I see. So you like Padma?" The girl in question blushed. This definitely wasn't what she expected, though to be truthful she did used to think about the older Quidditch captain.

"Of course not, why would I like her?"

'_Ouch_' Harry winced in his mind. He peaked a look to see an outraged Padma being comforted and restrained by her friends from cursing the hell out of the insensitive prick. The entire hall had gone almost utterly silent as everyone including the teaching staff looked on with interest. The setting could not be more perfect.

Harry waited until he caught Fleur's eyes before sending her a warning look. His bonded gave an almost imperceptible nod of understanding before relaying it to Regine, who sat beside her. Seeing both girls tense up presumably in readiness, Harry decided to risk his grand finale.

"So what kind of girls do you like?"

Whether Roger was just looking for a beat down or some how thought saying what he said would hurt Harry's house pride, the Ravenclaw stared back darkly and uttered for everyone to hear.

"Gryffindor girls, they are more _fun_…"

Two shields went up around the Beauxbatons section of the table while Harry cast another one around the lower end, covering most of the younger students. Then he leaped aside just in time to avoid the half a dozen or so jinx, hexes and curses shot by angry Gryffindor boys. The curses slammed into Roger Davies, sending him flailing out of his seat and food all over his neighbors. An angry Davies along with friends retaliated and soon a mixed Gryffindor- Ravenclaw brawl was taking place in the middle of the hall while spells and food were exchanged between the two middle tables. The Slytherin table, which was on the other side of the Gryffindor one, was dragged in at some point when Malfoy stood to talk but was shut up with a curse. The Durmstrang contingent, however, followed the Beauxbatons example and barricaded themselves within several shields.

"Silence!" Finally the booming voice of the headmaster cut through the chaos. Gradually anarchy gave way to order until the brawling 6th and 7th year Gryffindor and Ravenclaw boys stopped as well. The staff was appalled to see three of the four tables in complete disarray, except for the shielded foreign and younger Ravenclaw students. The Hufflepuffs occupied the only table spared the devastation of spells and editable projectiles.

Harry laughed uproariously as he saw the expressions that graced most of the teachers. Despite suffering the ignominy of having his robes smeared with food (though he avoided all the spells) he thought that it was a small price to pay and there was no way anyone could blame him for it.

"Potter!" Of course, that wouldn't stop some from trying.

"50 points from.…"

"May I ask for what?" Questioned Harry indignantly. Snape began spluttering in the way he always did when he couldn't get something to go his way.

"Yes, there's no reason to punish the innocent¸ Severus." The big bat looked ready to challenge that statement, but changed his mind in the last minute and decided it wasn't worth his efforts or time to do so.

"Minerva, it was your students' unprovoked attack against Mr. Malfoy that…."

"My students! Clearly it was the imprudence of Mr. Rogers, whom I demand to be replaced… absolutely intolerable for a prefect of this…."

"Excuse me, Minerva, Severus. I must protest…."

The three of the house heads soon engaged in a three-way heated argument with points being taken off from all over the place while amazed students and the visiting guests watched on. Even Headmaster Dumbledore seemed at a loss as to what to do, though the slight twitching of his beard showed that he was clearly amused.

Harry, meanwhile seeing the disgruntled older boys picking themselves off the ground, tried to lend a hand.

"Piss off Potter." Harry stopped. Having been pushed enough, he fought off the urge to curse the pompous git. God, he never realized how many Malfoy wanna-bes there were around him. Luckily for him, a Ravenclaw girl dragged him back to the table where to the envy of others no less than four girls then fawned over the Gryffindor boy, 'trying' to clean him up. This went on for a few minutes, until someone cast a cleaning charm over him. The four girls glared at Regine's smiling face.

"Come and sit, Harry." The French prefect said, patting the small space she and Fleur made between them on the other side of the table. Harry cast a questioning glance at his still giggling lover, who only shrugged as if saying: 'suit yourself'. Deciding that he might as well, Harry flipped himself across the table and smoothly slid in to place between the two blondes.

"My, my, that was quite something. Tell me, is it always this fun with you, Harry Potter?" The bold question caused several people, both male and female, to gasp and to choke.

Fleur said something in French, presumably to admonish her friend for being so crass.

"I'm afraid not, but I try to keep a few surprises up my sleeve." Answered Harry with a charming smile. Those not looking on with jealousy or some other teenage emotion were amazed at how calm the 4th year boy managed to act, snuggled in between the two older beauties.

"Mind showing me some of those surprises sometime, Harry? Provided Fleur is willing to share." Laughing openly now, Fleur, careful, dainty, perfect lady Fleur, picked up a piece of meat and threw it at her friend in mock anger. Harry remained silent, realizing that he had no safe answer for that. He caught the Weasley twins grinning at him from the Gryffindor table, making small but distinct bowing motions and chatting something along the lines of 'iron balls'. Meanwhile, those around the Gryffindor twin didn't know whether to laugh or blush. Ron, Harry saw, chose the latter while Hermione seemed busy telling everyone off.

At last, order was completely restored amongst students and staff. Roger Davies sat about four seats down from Harry on the opposite side. The prefect refused to meet Harry's eyes as he whispered something to a solemn looking Cho Chang, who sat beside him. Harry had no choice but to avoid the distraught Ravenclaw in the aftermath of Cedric's death, knowing that he could do nothing for her without revealing his hand too soon. Unfortunately, this action was viewed with suspicion by some and exasperated by the likes of Mr. Davies. Harry felt his eyes narrowing and his body tensing¸ all of which were not missed by the two girls sitting so bodily close to him.

"'arry?"

"It's ok."

The mood in the hall hit a new low as Dumbledore talked about Cedric. Harry heard his name towards the end of the speech.

"…Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort…returned Cedric's body to Hogwarts… showed the sort of bravery that few wizards showed… for this I honor him."

Harry nodded courteously in acknowledgement as he downed his goblet. Some followed suit without hesitation, others did so reluctantly, and the rest, of course, refused to honor him so.

As soon as Dumbledore finished his speech and before the noise level picked back up, Harry rose.

"Headmaster, sir!" He called out loudly. "May I be allowed a moment to address the school?"

The entire hall looked at him in confusion, including Fleur and Regine. A curious headmaster gave him the go ahead before Snape could object.

Harry stepped away from the Ravenclaw table, took two steps forward and turned around towards the rest of the hall, expanding his magic to draw himself to his full height. It was the first time he tried magical manipulation to enhance his charisma, and based on the initial results, it looked like it was a success.

'_This is it. Give it your all, old boy.'_

"I wish to correct a mistake our esteemed headmaster made?" Mutters and grumblings broke out immediately. Harry waited half a minute for it to subside before continuing.

"I have not been nearly as brave as Headmaster Dumbledore made me out to be. In fact, some might consider me a coward." Many of the Slytherins and their allies broke out in laughter, while others looked at Harry curiously wondering where he was going with his self-deprecating remark. All were confused when a slightly devious smirk crossed the Gryffindor's face.

"Why you ask? I, myself, wondered for many a sleepless night since the fateful 3rd task. True, I did survive a duel with Voldemort,"

Gasp.

"… and escaped the clutches of his Death Eaters, perhaps even killing a few."

The Slytherins paled.

Another gasp, this time inclusive of the staff. Dumbledore's eyes had lost all of their twinkle. _'Old codger is probably working out what that meant. Better talk fast.' _Harry thought.

"But I am, nevertheless, a coward because even as I discovered the identities of the 'scum' inhabiting this earth¸ I could _NOT_, yes, I, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, could not prevail on the authorities to ensure that justice is done. Yes, the _proper_ authorities…" Harry grounded out with distain. "… will let go the very scum, who have _murdered and maimed your families and friends_!"

Stunned silence greeted the hall. Few missed the direct attack on Ministry corruption.

"I'm a **coward** because even as you have placed your faith in me, I have not fought against evil at every turn! I'm a **coward** because I have allowed the flesh and blood of these very same scum to taint and defile you with their very presence!"

No one was at a loss what was meant as Harry cast one hateful glare at Draco Malfoy.

"I'm **coward** because I have allowed scum to roam freely and taint your lives when they scarcely have the right to live! And if unchecked, my **cowardice** will cause YOU,"

Here, Harry gave the entire hall a look over.

"… to suffer the same fate as your parents, your uncles, your aunts, your loved ones and friends because the kind of _scum_ that committed atrocities against your parents, your uncles, your aunts, your loved ones and friends also _exists amongst us here_ _today_!"

Harry was all but yelling as the clamor caused by excited and impassioned students reached a crescendo. Those students that might have been otherwise unsure or hesitant about Harry became swept up in the fervor of the moment. Gryffindors, in particular, who had recently been suspicious of how much time Harry spent with Ravenclaws and their Beauxbatons guests, now took to the forefront to show house solidarity.

"Do you wish me to remain a **coward**?"

"_NO!"_ The crowd thundered in response.

The Slytherin students were horrified and furious beyond belief. And for the non- DE offspring, they were scared for their lives. Some of the dissenters, seeing the righteous anger of their schoolmates, vowed to cease their quiet acceptance of their darker brethren.

"POTTER!" Shocked speechlessness, only at the end did Snape manage to recompose himself, determined now to make the upstart Potter brat pay. Unfortunately for Snivelus, Dumbledore checked his enraged potions master before he could hurt someone or himself. Of course, this also meant the headmaster couldn't turn his attention to deal with Harry and the super emotionally charged student body he spurred on.

Thankfully for Harry, Draco stepped up to the plate. The pink flash of light didn't travel two meters from the Slytherin's wand, before Harry made a wide slashing movement complete with graphical and coloring effects that tossed the curse back. Draco's own curse smashed into him, ripping the front of his robes and slamming him into the wall behind Slytherin table. The boy was unconscious before he even hit the ground.

The hall looked on in silence before erupting in cheers. Some of the students who lost loved ones in the first war began actively pumping fists into the air or hugging their friends. The Slytherins, of course, didn't back down as most of the table rose up defiantly… only to be met by their fellow school mates, who rose for one reason or another in Harry's defense. Harry felt himself swell with joy as the Beauxbatons students also joined his side while the Durmstrang conspicuously separated themselves from the Slytherin lot. Harry noted his thanks to Krum when the two caught each other's eyes.

Seeing several hundred wands being pointed at them, most Slytherins lost heart, crumbling back into their seats. Harry felt a brief flash of pity for the younger years, especially those he befriended. They looked so lost, unsure of which side to support. Yet, this was a necessary, if albeit harsh, lesson these youngsters need to learn.

"POTTER! Detention for…." Snape realized belatedly that punishment of this sort didn't really work out.

"School's out in a day, professor, unless you intend to keep me here for duration of the summer, which would just be fine by me. Besides, if you were paying attention, you would have seen that all I did was toss Malfoy's curse back at him. If anyone's punished, it should be him." Severus turned to the headmaster for help, but finding little support from the silently scheming old man, sat back down.

'_I'm doing good, today.'_ Thought the Gryffindor provocateur.

Harry raised his hand, motioning for silence and the masses obeyed. Alas, Roger Davies, who was grumbling darkly, was not one to listen.

"Am I boring you, Roger?" The entire hall swerved to look at the Ravenclaw prefect. Harry smiled as the people beside him instinctively veered away out of his line of sight.

"Don't you think it's funny that a murderer could be so popular, Cho?" The doomed boy taunted, ignoring the Gryffindor. The Asian girl looked absolutely terrified at this point for being put on the spot. Harry felt himself flash with anger.

"Killing a Death Eater or two in self defense could hardly be considered murder, Roger."

"That's not what I mean and you know it Potter. I'm talking about Cedric." Despite being a prefect of the house known for its intelligence, Roger Davies most certainly wasn't being intelligent. A quick scan of the hall told Harry that many, including most of Hufflepuff house, were not impressed with the older boy dragging the memory of their deceased champion into his private vendetta against the remaining Hogwarts champion.

"You are talking about something you have no knowledge about." Harry fired back.

"And if you are going to insult me, at least _look at me_, not her!" Harry gave Cho a look in which he hoped he conveyed sympathy and understanding. "She's been through enough."

Roger Davies jumped in surprise but did as he demanded. Since his 'transformation,' Harry had been experimenting on seeing if he could find uses for his powers other than seducing girls. One was that if he inverted the veela's female attraction charm, it served as a very potent intimidation aura for guys. After taking one look at Harry, the poor Ravenclaw suddenly had to fight from soiling himself as Harry, aided by his magic, and intensified his icy glare.

"Mr. Davies, Mr. Potter, that is enough." Exclaimed Dumbledore in a booming voice. "The ministry has confirmed that it was the killing curse that ended Cedric Diggory's life and rest assured that that spell was not cast from Mr. Potter's wand."

"Potter could have used another wand to do it." Heads turned and Harry noticed that it was someone from the Hufflepuff table who spoke out. It would seem that no one house could ever fall in line with him 100 as dissenters always existed. But it did drive the point home that Harry could never depend on any single faction and that he would need to shore up his support base within all the houses. Some, like Harry's most ardent converts within Hufflepuff House, wanted to protest this new line questioning, but Harry decided that he had better nick this one in the butt. While he suspected, from the antagonism and hint of distain in the speaker's voice, that that person in question was unlikely to be a convert of his faith. No matter his explanation, he might as well use the current situation as the springboard for his final event.

"You are?"

"Zacharias Smith."

Harry made a note to remember that name. The guy might be in his year and looked like trouble.

"I'm sorry Cho, but you could have come to me. You deserved to know what happened to Cedric, but I simply didn't want to deal with…certain people and I never could get you alone." Probably not the most appropriate words at the moment, but Harry ignored the sniggers. "But today, I shall satisfy everyone's curiosity."

Indeed, if people had not been curious before, they most certainly were now, especially when Victor Krum walked forward with two fellow Durmstrang students carrying a large pensive like bowl. But unlike the clear liquid that filled the pensive, this one was filled with an opaque substance that radiated an almost sinister darkness. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry saw recognition spread across Dumbledore's face.

"Thank you, Victor."

"You're welcome, Harry."

The two greeted each other like old friends as Harry directed the pensive to be set on the old sorting hat stool. While Harry didn't try to hide his interactions with the Beauxbatons students, he did try very hard to keep his discrete impromptu meetings with Victor secret. It had been quite a task, given where the Durmstrang students resided, but based on the dumbfounded looks on everyone's face, it had been worth it. The darker pro-Voldemort Slytherins looked vaguely nauseous as they saw what they thought were foreign compatriots conspiring with their enemy.

"As you can see, our friends at Durmstang have been kind enough to provide one of their memory projectors for my use."

The hall buzzed with questions.

"For those wondering, it's essentially a pensive that projects a memory outwards so that crowds of people could see. The images and the sounds are not very clear, but I think they would be adequate for our purposes."

Before anyone could object, Harry lifted his wand and pulled the appropriate strand of memory and deposited into the bowl of swirling black liquid.

A holographic like scene sprung to life in the middle of the great hall.

The entire hall watched with a mixture of amazement and horror. They saw the green light of death rob Cedric of his life; they saw Voldemort rise up once again; they saw the renewed Dark Lord greet his Death Eaters, confirming what many already suspected; and they saw through Harry's eyes as the Avada Kedavra screamed towards them…

"That's ENOUGH!" Dumbledore dissipated the image with one majestic swish of his wand. Harry had to resist the urge to cow before the powerful wizard. He knew the headmaster was not pleased, but the cunning Gryffindor also knew that he could do nothing at this point. He couldn't even stop Harry at this point as his attention was centered on an angry Snape, who decided to try to intervene once again. Harry smiled inwardly.

"I'm sorry that I could do no more than bring Cedric's body back." Harry stated apologetically towards Cho and the Hufflepuffs. But then, he whirled on a pale looking Ravenclaw prefect.

"But to those who have questioned me time and again and rattled about things they don't know! I really wonder what you would have done. Tell me, Roger, what would have you done had you been facing Voldemort? Piss your pants and faint?" Harry gave the older boy a disgusted look, as Davies seriously looked ready to do just that.

"Mr. Potter, if that is all." Dumbledore's eyes were cold and with out light. Harry met them and locked his shields into place. His inside purred with delight as a look of surprise registered on the wizened mage. This undoubtedly would make trouble for him in the future, but at the time, it seemed worth it.

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded in acceptance as he made his way back to his seat between the French beauties. Fleur was smiling broadly, if albeit nervously, at him, while Regine was giving him a slight predatory appraising look as if she was reassessing his worth.

As the noises and conversations returned, many of which relating to the Gryffindor hero's impromptu performance, Harry's sharpened vision caught sight of a beetle flying away. He was still rather skeptical about providing the likes of Rita the scope on such a sensitive issue, but at the end, Harry knew that it would be infinitely better for the Prophet to get news about that night from him than someone like Lucius Malfoy.

Harry relished the taste of the delicious shepherd's pie, watching with amusement as a vaguely disgusted Fleur poked at her food suspiciously.

Today, he humiliated the Death Eaters, their spawn, and Snape;

… He put into question the competence and legitimacy of the wizarding government and its leaders,

… Successfully utilized his fame and prestige to evoke a call for action,

… Ensured that his image within the school had been enhanced to a degree that no negative rumor can hope to negate in the near future;

… Ensured that never again would he be underestimated by actors that would seek to use him;

And Harry Potter did all this in one single, masterful, stroke. Best of all, there was not a single thing Dumbledore could do at this point. School would be out in a day. For once, the coming of summer would work in Harry's favor.

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	5. Parting Gifts for Harry Part I

**Rating:** M for heavy petting and **_femme slash/girl-girl_** moments. You have been warned.

**Posted: 1/28/2006**

**Beta: Yogert**

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"_Losers try their best; winners go home and fuck the high school prom queen!" _

"_Cara was the prom queen."_ - Sean Connery and Nicholas Cage in"The Rock"

**Chapter 5: Parting Gifts for Harry (Part I)**

The green-eyed, raven-haired Gryffindor sighed as he watched students of the three schools loitering around, exchanging good byes and contact info with their new foreign friends. In a few hours, all the foreign students would be gone; she would be gone. The officially 14-year-old satyr still had no idea what he was going to do for the summer. His veela lover had tried to reassure him that everything would be all right and that she would find someway for them to meet as soon as possible. The only thing that brought him out at this time from his sulking mood was Fleur's promise of 'gifts'. Harry had no doubt they would be good ones, as he once again scanned the crowd for his secret lover.

Presently, he was standing with his two best friends, trying to ignore the discomfort and tensions between them. After his over the top speech at the leaving feast, Hermione had tried to give him a thorough talking, to which an irritated and still impassioned Harry responded with what essentially could be translated to: 'NOYB - None of your business.' Needless to say, the bushy haired bookworm didn't take that too well. To his credit, Harry did feel bad about giving his friends the cold shoulder, but he simply couldn't bring himself to care at that point. At least, Dumbledore hadn't been able to corner the popularized Gryffindor hero, who had been able, thus far, to dodge or ignore the agents carrying the old headmaster's order to see him.

'Her-mon-y," Ron scowled as Victor Krum pulled Hermione off to the side for a private chat before turning to his fellow champion.

"Harry, I hope to meet you again. It's been a pleasure." The tall Quidditch star warmly shook the hand of his fellow rival champion.

"Likewise, Victor." Harry greeted in return before bidding the Bulgarian Quidditch star off. He turned around, only to barely manage to suppress a groan as he was confronted with his temperamental friend. Luckily, Hermione made some random remark about Victor, which redirected the red firecracker's attention.

'_This is getting ridiculous.'_ Thought Harry as he turned his attention away else where, blocking out the bickering best friends. From a dozen meters away, he finally caught sight of Fleur giving him an intense look. Harry responded with an almost indistinguishable nod that the veela nonetheless picked up as she shooed her friends away. It was kind of freaky how they could communicate with one another with looks alone, but Harry just chucked it up to the special bond they had with each other.

"I need to see someone. I'll see you guys later." The raven-haired student muttered as he quickly made his exit, before his friends realized whom he was going off to see.

"Hello, Fleur." It would be interesting, as the French girl had promised a surprise for him after the Last Feast last night.

The blonde haired veela gave him a dazzling smile once she was sure no one else was close by.

"Come on, 'arry." Before he knew it, Harry was being pulled through the carriage door and stumped into not the inside of a carriage, but a grand lobby that resembled the entrance at some high-class five-star muggle hotel.

"Wow. This is, this is amazing!" In addition to the glittering floors and towering Greco-Roman columns, the interior also featured wall-to-wall paintings of intricate historical French heroes, both muggle and magical, famous architectures and various fantasy beasts. The splendor of it all stunned the modest life the 14-year-old had lived so far.

"Izn't it? The carriage waz a very old gift from '**_l'Éminence rouge_,**' Cardinal Richelieu, Chief Minister of France in 1633, though it 'az been modified over the yearz." Fleur noted, pointing to a landscape depiction of the seizure of Bastille by French revolutionaries.

"Cardinal, as in a member of the muggle clergy? The same one that sanctioned and pursued witch burnings?"

Fleur smiled at Harry's enquiring gaze.

"Yes, but the cardinal waz also exceptionally talented and politically shrewd enough to realize the value of 'aving the wizarding world as his ally. He provided subztantial aid and cover for many of the functional departmentz of the French Ministry of Magic. And being a great lover of the arts, zis waz a gift to Beauxbatons after several of our famouz alumni 'elped thaw an attack on the cardinal's power."

Fleur leaned close so she could whisper directly in Harry's ears.

"It'z said zat Richelieu started the practice of maintaining an open communicationz channel between a country's muggle leader and itz magical counterpart."

Harry ignored the stares he garnered from several wandering French students, in favor of focusing on the giant portrait of a charismatic looking elderly man decked in vestments that was a cross between a monk and a statesman's robes. The name _Armand Jean Du Plessis, Cardinal et Duc de Richelieu_, was emblazened in gold below.

'_Another Slytherin in red, huh?'_ Though Harry in amusement as he followed Fleur.

By the time the couple stopped in front of the towering arch of two doors, Harry had to admit he found everything Fleur told him to be utterly fascinating. Compared to Binns, Fleur was a far superior orator, despite her accent, because she kept him hooked with interesting anecdotes, though Harry couldn't say he was being completely impartial. It really was one of those times that it was a shame for her to be a veela, because it was virtually impossible for someone to see this part of her.

And truthfully, Harry never expected the pretty veela to be such a learned history enthusiast. But it was a pleasant surprise, to be sure. It meant that, more likely than not, Fleur possessed other undiscovered abilities and a drive to do more than just fool around with him. On the other hand, seeing the palace-like interior of the carriage, the slight naughty smile on the veela's face and having a fairly good idea of what laid beyond the doors, fooling around was a pretty attractive thought for Harry.

"Come in, 'arry."

"Oh Merlin…." Fleur bounced into the room, giving a small twirl as she presented her 'room'.

"This is like a penthouse suite. Do you get your own Jacuzzi and private bar as well?" Asked Harry sarcastically as he took in the sheer opulence of the suite. The serious nod left him speechless.

"So, why do you guys stay in the Ravenclaw tower?"

"Zis room iz the VIP suite and I, being the champion, 'av special access. Most of ze other roomz are much smaller and Madame Maxime made us live at Hogwartz to be better acquainted with British _culture_." The French girl said the last word with just a hint of distain. Harry kindly decided to ignore that, having already heard his lover's diatribe on British barbarity, most notoriously expressed by Hogwarts' horrendously high cholesterol, high fat, and high sugar meals.

"I see."

A slightly wicked smile crossed Harry's face as he strolled towards the giant super-king sized bed, dominating one part of the large room.

"So, does _this_ have anything to do with the surprise you had in mind?"

The voluptuous girl crossed the distance between them with astonishing speed and tackled her startled lover onto the spacious bed.

"It might…" Harry groaned in delight as the frisky girl pulled apart the upper portion of his robes and proceeded to rain feather kisses along his neck and collarbones. The normally wonderful feeling seemed to be magnified by the magical bed.

"Wow!"

"I thought you might like it."

"I do," Kiss. "… I liked it very much." Feeling adventurous, the Gryffindor boy reciprocated while sneaking his hands along the moaning girl's sides. Fleur realized too late what was happening as Harry attacked.

"Hmm, this is very comfortable." Harry acknowledged as he luxuriated in the feel of the soft bedding material under him and the sensual girl on top of him.

The surprised blonde could only give a half-pleading, half-excited yell of "no" before she was caught up in gales of laughter as she was tickled mercilessly. The laughing, shouting and half-crying, girl thrashed about almost violently; the withering motions of the vixen caused her perky beasts to press against her lover and her lower body to grind against his rapidly expanding male virility. A sweating and adrenaline pumped Harry had snaked one of his hand down to part aside the flimsy clothes separating him from his love's undoubtedly dripping honey pot when he sensed the door closing as someone entered the private chamber. In a single fluid motion, the tried and proven Gryffindor warrior rolled 45 degrees to one side, allowing his other hand to bring his wand to bear.

"Non, attends!" Too late.

"**_Ossum Oblido_**!" A powerful bone-crushing spell screamed by, just inches from her face. Only quick reflexes allowed the intruder to avoid from suffering what would most certainly have been grievous harm.

"Wait!" The intruder's call for peace caused Harry to pause from unleashing a second devastating spell, even as he remained sitting in bed with Fleur half draped over him.

"Regine?" Indeed, it was the slim blonde French prefect, who looked a bit shaken¸ but otherwise all right. In fact, as soon as Harry dropped his aggressive stance, the girl gave a smile to show that no harm was done.

"Is he always this fun?" The veela rolled her eyes at her friend's uncanny ability to veer towards maximum impropriety.

"'aven't you 'eard of knocking?"

"Haven't you heard of locking charms?" Her prefect retorted as with a flick of her wand, applied a locking charm to the door before walking towards the bed.

"You were ze only other wiz the magical access key, other than Madame Maxime." Fleur shot back.

"I thought this room was yours?" Her amour questioned.

"I technically can't bring any non-Beauxbatons students in or I would 'av taken you 'ere long ago."

The saucy veela gave a knowing wink. Harry looked at his secret lover with alarm, clearly unsure about their blatant displays of affections before.

"Oh, don't worry about Regine. As a matter of fact, as the senior prefect she helped me smuggle you in here by keeping Madame Maxime occupied." The blonde prefect gave a cute, innocent smile that was anything but.

"I really hoped you guys made use of prophylactic potions and charms."

Fleur slapped her friend lightly on the arm in mock anger. And to Harry's credit, he didn't splatter and answered in a neutral voice.

"I brewed a potion that was the magical equivalent of the vasectomy two days after Fleur and mine's first time. And Fleur has been on prophylactics for years I believe." After all, for someone with his sexual temperament to run around without making sure he could only shoot blanks was, well, asking for trouble.

The veela gave a soft blush. While theoretically a veela possesses natural contraceptive measures via her ability to regulate her own sexual organs; i.e. whether or not to release an egg for fertilization; control can be lost in the throes of passion. As such, almost all veela augment their defenses with long-term prophylactic potions as soon as they entered puberty.

"A man that looks after the welfare of his partner. A girl likes that especially, since most wizards your age don't know what a prophylactic is, much less how to make one."

The Gryffindor's Slytherin senses kicked in as he looked at Fleur for clues about what the bloody hell was going on.

"How long?"

Regine's lips arched in a smile.

"Ever since I introduced myself to you that day you saved us from the Slytherins. Oh, don't worry; Fleur didn't have to say anything. And while I think she managed to fool everyone else, I'm not everyone. I'm her best friend."

Regine ignored the disparaging remark Fleur made about 'some best friend,' but the glint in the blonde prefect's eyes told Harry that she had heard.

"But I suspect you, Harry, didn't want anyone else to know so,"

The teen beauty sat down beside her friend on the bed.

"… Perhaps she deserves to be punished," The prefect swatted her still laid out friend right on her butt cheeks, causing Fleur to utter an "ah" cry of surprise. True, Harry had suspected, fantasized and hoped that Regine would join them for a threesome, but he was sure that the slim blonde was only being extremely playful. Therefore, Harry was rather shocked when Fleur's friend started to message her firm derriere.

Fleur, in the mean time, seemed to be caught between two mindsets. On the one hand, she could not help but voice her pleasure at her experienced friend's ministrations. On the other hand, the bond was forcing her to react adversely to the sensual touch not from her bonded. Finally, the bond won as the veela rolled away from Regine and into Harry. The other blonde girl first frowned and then pouted before finally settling into an expression of acceptance.

"So, you are my _courtly flower_'s master. Certainly not what I would have expected, but I can see why she chose you. I'm so jealous." Harry suspected that she hid just how jealous she was, but decided to question her on the other parts of her speech instead.

"How did you know?" The Gryffindor was intelligent enough to sense that playing dumb was not going to work.

"Like I said, Fleur's my best friend. We used to _share everything_ with one another, so naturally I know as much about her and her veela nature as she does about me. The way she's acting, I'm quite sure who's 'wearing the pants' in this relationship, so to speak."

"Brat." Fleur remarked. Regine responded by sticking her tongue out, but did crawl over to the couple. The Beauxbatons prefect stopped just short to give Harry a questioning gaze as if to seek permission.

Harry turned to the veela with a thoughtful expression. He debated within himself for about 10 seconds before succumbing to his desire to see how far the two vixens would take this charade and gave his lover the green light.

"Go ahead… if you want." Harry felt his lover instinctively relax across the bond and watched as the two blondes then embraced each other platonically, though the hormonally charged boy was quite sure it could easily turn non-platonic in a split second. He shook his head to try and clear his mind.

'_How the hell did it get to the point where I was giving permission for Fleur to kiss her best friend?' _

"Were you two…?"

"Lovers?" Harry nodded hesitantly.

"No, or else I would be seriously miffed that Fleur cheated on me. But no, she was too much of a prude." The indignant veela tried to voice her protest, but was silenced as her friend sealed her lips with a kiss. Harry felt the very depth of his soul heat up with fiery passion as the two hot older girls continued their steamy kiss while their wandering hands roamed all over each other. For Harry, the entire affair was beginning to look entirely too surreal, like one of Dudley's cheesy porno videos that he caught sight of once. But the young Gryffindor never recalled the video affecting him so. Indeed, with each groan, each sigh, and each whimper the girls made, Harry felt his self-control and reason flee him. The human prefect in particular made sure that their male spectator heard and saw everything. Harry's eyes narrowed with burning lust as he saw Regine dripping saliva across every part of her friend's exposed chalky alabaster skin, covering it with a shimmering transparent sheen.

The veela giggled as her friend played with her belly button under her robes but then groaned as her hands slipped further south.

"I think we 'av been ignoring someone." Fleur choked out between moans.

Regine sat up in response, causing her friend to moan in loss as she extracted her digits. The supple female brought her clearly coated fingers up to her face and Harry suddenly knew what living in the Sahara was like as he felt the dryness in his mouth. The devious blonde made an exaggerated show of being fascinated with the viscous covered digits: looking at them from different angles, sniffing them, and then finally slipping her index finger into her warm orifice.

"You are such _une tarte_."

The prefect grinned at her veela friend.

"But you still love me. But I think you may be right about your boyfriend." Defying all logic, Harry managed to remain expressionless even as the sexy French girl crawled towards him like a fox stalking its prey. Regine's smile grew as if realizing that she was going to enjoy the hunt.

"With your permission, Fleur flower?"

Briefly Harry thought that his lover would call it all off and she and her friend would burst out in laughter at having 'got him good'. But alas, that was not the case. The ravishing veela snorted in a very un-lady like manner.

"Not like me saying 'no' would stop you." Regine laughed as she closed the distance between her and Harry only to be stopped centimeters away from her target by two lean but quivering and yet determined arms.

"You don't have to do this, Fleur." Harry had grounded out the words in a whisper like voice while he was literally shaking with lust. The veela looked at him in astonishment, but then flashed him a million watt smile.

"I know, 'arry. But I want you to…" Harry was at unconvinced at the hesitant tone in his lover's voice. Fleur looked at her friend with, what appeared first, was a mixture of anxiety and uncertainty, but then seemed to find her resolve.

"Regine's been my best friend since childhood. If I can't share you with her…." A more cheerful and slightly naughty smile crossed the veela's fair complexion. "Besides, I would feel bad being wiz her later if you never even 'ad a chance to try her for yourself."

"Hey!" The indignant and squirming girl yelled, sending delightful shivers up Harry's arms.

"Turn around iz fair play, non?" Fleur propped herself casually on her elbows as if planning to enjoy a good show.

Regine focused her attention on the boy, no, young man, in front of her. The sexy blonde had been downright furious at first, having interpreted Harry's hesitation as rejection. After all, who was this English pipsqueak to reject her? But when she saw that he was actually seeking his lover, AKA her best friend for permission even, her perception of him changed entirely.

The arguably resident French teen centerfold of Beauxbatons was awestruck. What control, what unimaginable loyalty must he possess in order to fight off his hormones even as a sensual, gorgeous girl lay within his arms?

"What about you?"

Though startled that the warm-blooded male in front of her wasn't, in fact, shredding her clothes apart, the prefect, nevertheless, quickly gathered her wits back together.

"Consider me a gift, then, for your noble deeds, Harry. Your headmaster and that slimy teacher of the snakes personally apologized to our headmistress, Sophia and the students after dinner last night. I do believe that was your doing."

Regine gave a thin smile as the male in front of her made no attempt to halt her wandering hand as it slid around him. It was a smile of assured victory and success.

"I merely impressed upon them the need to… not let our esteem foreign guests leave feeling wronged."

"I can think of one esteemed foreign guest, who would feel wronged, unless she is allowed to personally thank the hero of the hour." The French girl was making the full court press, so to speak, and was quite amazed when the target in question seemed superficially unaffected. In fact, the retort Harry fired back almost sent her spluttering.

"Really? Where is Sophia then?"

Fleur instantly cracked up in laughter as her friend's word play backfired on her.

"_Fuck you_!" The humiliated and flushed blonde shouted towards her best friend.

"_Toi d'abord_." The veela girl cheekily fired back.

The human girl's flush intensified and Harry was greeted for the first time of the sight of a fully blushing Regine, the same Regine who was normally the cool, calm and calculating French senior prefect of Beauxbatons. Said prefect turned away from her annoying friend and gave her target what was a very excellent and most likely well practiced pout. Harry resisted the urge to simply explode as he saw the lust lidded eyes gazing at him with a hint of desperation.

"I have never begged before, but I can. Don't you want me, Harry?" The lascivious girl pushed Harry down and then crawled over him.

"You don't even know me." Harry protested half heartedly, most out of his innate sense of notability. Even so, his hands, possessed by thoughts of their own, flew to cup the almost panting older girl's firm derriere.

"Neither did Fleur. And while I don't know you well, I know my best friend very well." Regine looked over at Fleur, who had long since been caught up in the interaction between the amorous couple. One of her hands was conspicuously hidden under the folds of clothes right above her loins, while the other kneaded her mound to some silent erotic rhythm.

"She never liked any of the boys, and brushed her dates off like they were insects. But all of a sudden, after a day with you, she looked as if she wanted to wear a permanent smile on her face and skipped around like the cat that ate the canary."

The French prefect gave him a smoky look as she lowered her body so that she was laying body-length on Harry.

"I know about the nature of the veela. Whatever you did to make her bond to _you_. I, I _want_ that; I _need_ that and I would be honored if you would give it to me Harry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Regine's answer was firm and without hesitation.

The change was instantaneous in both Harry and in the atmosphere. It felt as if the chamber's temperature shot up 20 degrees while the boy took on an inhuman mask of passion. The lust-addled boy ran his hands, almost roughly, over the girl's model-like body, though the roughness was by no means unpleasant. Grunting in frustration at the thin layer of Beauxbatons uniform impeding his progress, Harry tried his best to arouse his partner by fondling her breasts through her clothes.

Regine had been completely unprepared for the heat that invaded her body generated by the sensual contact. Never had she felt so hot, and for a younger man a boy's age too. _'Was this what her best friend felt? Was this why she looked as if she had found paradise on earth every time she came back from wherever she disappeared to each afternoon?'_ The slender girl would have been almost content to lie there, bathing in the warmth of the moment, but alas her young lover-to-be had other plans.

The raven-haired boy pulled her into a searing kiss as if trying to push all of his desire into her through their connected orifices. It was a good minute or two before Regine's toes uncurled themselves.

"Please take me." Brilliant green eyes searched crystal blue ones for confirmation and acceptance.

**-----LEMON WARNING-----**

Text Cut

**-----END LEMON-----**

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**Translation:**

**L'Éminence rouge **– The Red Eminence (Red, referring to Richelieu's red robes and eminence, to his title)

**Non, attends** – No, wait

**Ossum Oblido** – Latin: Ossum from os for bone; oblido meaning to crush

**Toi d'abord** – You first

**Merde alors!** – Fuck me!

**Garcon-Qui-a-Vecu** – Boy-Who-Lived

**D'accord?** – Ok?


	6. Parting Gifts for Harry Part II

**Posted: 1/28/2006**

**Beta: Yogert**

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**Chapter 6: Parting Gifts for Harry (Part II)**

"Hmm, so sex _iz_ more fun wiz two girlz. Should we try for three, 'arry? Oh, we can get Sophia. I'm sure she'll be open to the idea if you are involved."

The girls giggled hysterically while Harry rolled his eyes at their post-coital giddiness. Considering they were now all dressed and refreshed – courtesy of some quick wand work – he was pretty sure she wasn't being serious.

"Some other time, Fleur." And they said he was insatiable.

"I'm glad both of my ladies happen to get along so well. I suppose I wouldn't have to worry about anyone being jealous, right?" The girls assured him they were fine, and he could sense the honesty of their assertions, but Harry still sensed of something on the periphery that nagged him. _'Oh well, that can't be dealt with right now.'_

"Listen, Regine. I can't really explain why since everything I know, Fleur's told me, but I'm sorry …"

The blonde human shushed the repentant male with her middle finger.

"You don't need to apologize, Harry. I knew what I was getting into and I'm more than pleased with the result." Regine stated with a radiant smile. "I just had the best sex ever, my best friend is now willing to reciprocate, and I won myself a cute boyfriend, well part of a cute boyfriend, to boot."

Harry smiled at the last bit, but pressed on.

"But you are stuck with me, and I thought that you preferred to play the field."

Regine's smile dimmed somewhat at the words.

"I'm not nearly as …experienced as you think Harry. And I can be loyal. Besides, I got Fleur now." The girl smiled again, reaching over to sling an arm around her veela friend and then twisting the other girl's nipple. The naughty and giggling human girl slid off of the bed quickly, her long blonde hair trailing behind her as she dodged her friend's attempt at retaliation. The two older girls briefly bartered back and forth like two immature prepubescent kids until both cackled in laughter. Harry had to admit, he was feeling pretty good about having this 'threesome' thing; it was turning out much better than anything he could have ever hoped for.

"… Anyway, so what if I have to share you? Especially since you outlasted _both_ of us with plenty of stamina to spare."

It was clear to Harry that the French girl was still in awe of his bedchamber prowess.

"The real question is, do you want me?" The Gryffindor made a half-snort, half-chortle kind of sound that clearly indicated he thought it was a stupid question.

"Regine: you could make a corpse want you. Same goes for Fleur, in case you are wondering." The casual, simplistic way he put it made it seem as if he was stating a universal fact of life rather than giving his own opinion.

Regine smiled serenely in response. "You already know we both want you, want each other, and are perfectly willing to share. So, what's the problem?"

That had Harry momentarily stumped. He couldn't see a problem. The girl smiled victoriously.

"I must be going, but just remind our lover boy here to have LOTS of practice since we'll definitely be better prepared the next time we meet, right Fleur?" Regine reminded of her friend as she tried to fix herself up so she didn't have the 'freshly screwed' look. The veela gave an "oui" answer in affirmation.

The girl walked to the door, gently swaying her hips for her lovers' interest.

"Bye love. And be sure to write, Harry, or we'll think you are having so much fun, that you forgot about us."

The Gryffindor snorted. "Like that's possible. Besides, even if that happens, which it won't, I'm sure you two will have absolutely no problem winning me back should you choose to, of course."

Regine seemed most satisfied with the response.

"One last thing, don't forget to give him your gift, Fleur." The Beauxbatons prefect remarked with a wink as she floated out of the room.

"Do I look like zat?" Asked Fleur in awe, still half-sprawled out on the giant bed.

"You mean, that fresh fucked glow?" The veela blushed. "Yeah, you do, though you hide it pretty well before others."

"So, what's this about another gift?" Harry asked with amusement.

Fleur responded by pulling a folded letter of sorts out of her clothes.

"I thought you might 'av some trouble wiz your 'eadmaster and minister so we got you zis."

Harry opened the parchment.

"It'z an endorsement of you by the visiting schoolz, wiz signatures by Madam Maxime, Regine and I, representing Beauxbatonz, and co-signatures from Victor Krum and the Durmstrang prefectz."

The Gryffindor's eyes lid up as he looked over the content and took in the small list of signatures at the bottom.

"An official copy 'as been forwarded to Professor Dumbledore, your school'z Board of Governorz, the British and French Ministry of Magic, and another will be on file at Beauxbatons for the record, in case your 'eadmaster doez something."

Harry chuckled. With an official foreign recommendation this high, coupled with his almost assured surge in domestic popularity, he probably had a 'carte blanche' as far as the ministry was concerned. Dumbledore, likewise, would also probably restrain himself for the time being from taking any sort of direct action, whatever his misgivings about Harry may be.

"Thank you, Fleur. I'm very pleasantly surprised."

"A good slave anticipates the needs of her master." The veela cheekily offered.

"A good slave also knows better than to tease her master." Harry retorted as he nuzzled the girl's neck, sensually licking her ear lopes and provoking melodious gasps of pleasure that were like music to mortal ears.

"She's also one now, right?"

"What?"

Harry separated from the confused veela. The change in the male veela's demeanor did quickly killed the mood.

"Regine is now one of my 'slaves,' right?"

Fleur sighed in defeat.

"She cornered me one afternoon after our…session if she could be yours as well. I vouch that I didn't tell her anything, 'arry."

"I know you didn't. Alright, let's just accept that Regine's willing. Why are YOU so encouraging about her joining my _harem_?" The Gryffindor couldn't help but wince slightly at the inherently degrading term.

"… And there has to be more to it than the fact that you two are best friends. I'm, well was, best friends with Ron, and I have never, nor will I ever, have the urge to rub bums with him." Harry shuddered at the very imagery as the veela laughed cutely.

"Well, I'm at least zlightly bi-sexual and I know, almost for sure, zat you are not. But it also 'as to do with what I am. Unless they are mated, veela lead lonely livez in the wizarding world even from a young age, 'arry. For me, I had lost all of my childhood friendz by the time I entered Beauxbatons, all except for Regine. Though I'm certainly popular, I 'av few real friendz and of them, I only trust Regine. She waz alwayz there for me; cried wiz me; laughed wiz me. She waz like another sister to Gabrielle and my parentz adored 'er like another daughter."

Harry stored Fleur's words, in its entirety, in the back of his mind, knowing that they would be useful info later.

"I repaid her by preventing 'er from ever truly enjoying the companionship of another. Ahm, I 'ope you don't hold it against her, or me, zat we aren't..."

"Virgins?" Harry finished. "No, I don't mind, as long as you are mine from now on, of course."

The teenage male only half meant it to be serious, but the way his lover seriously enunciated the words 'of course' with crystal clarity stuck him. They were, indeed, his in every way. He had rights and powers over them but also duties and obligations to them. Harry's stomach churned with discomfort, even as he covered his face with a mask of calm. The veela only smiled, seemingly reassured by his words.

"Regine iz, az you 'av probably guessed, somewhat experienced, and I 'av only been wiz one other before you."

"I'm guessing it wasn't Roger." Actually, Harry was 99.999 positive it wasn't. His Slytherin 'look at all sides' mentality kept him from assigning it the last 0.001.

Harry's inner beast purred with delight as Fleur made a disgusted face in response.

"Absolutely not! It happened well over a year ago. But, don't worry, 'arry, we can always find virginz for you in the future."

The Boy-Who-Lived wisely chose not to respond to that statement.

"About what you said about repaying Regine. I don't see how you could have hurt her, not with how _close_ you two seemed."

The blonde, naturally, reddened in response.

"Not deliberately, of course. I love 'er like a sister." The flush subsided as the veela shot Harry a serious, piercing gaze.

"Do you think Régine iz pretty?"

Harry almost splattered at the unexpected question.

"Pretty! At the risk of angering my beautiful veela lover, who could in an instance turn into a flame throwing menace and barbecue my ass, I say she's gorgeous and, on an added note, also happen to be an absolute dynamite in bed."

Said potential menace gave another smile at her lover's perfect answer, showing that she wasn't offended. Of course, both already knew that the bond almost guaranteed that such an event could never occur.

"What about me then? How does she compare to me?"

Harry blinked.

"Why do I need to compare? You two are both fantastically and unearthly beautiful."

"Think 'arry. Given how close we are, how many times do you think someone else made a similar remark to her about her, about us."

Harry opened his mouth only to shut it as he grimaced in realization.

"Exactly! Everyone compared 'er to me, alwayz; Sizing 'er up against me, consciously or unconsciously."

Fleur gave a sad, grim smile.

"Regine logically knowz she iz very beautiful, but when no one tellz you that, when everyone alwayz think of you as second best… that takez a terrible toll on a girl'z psyche. I 'ad my own insecurities, my own fears so I used my best friend like a crutch, yet I denied 'er when she approached me. My stupidity almost cost me my best friend."

Clearly the experience had been very trying for Fleur as well for the normally bubbly and even haughty veela to make such a self-deprecating remark. Harry resisted the urge to offer comfort, knowing that this guilt was something she had to deal with on her own.

"I owed Regine so much, 'arry. So when she approached me, I thought it waz a way I could make up to 'er. Besides, I need to learn to share anywayz, so why not start with my best friend?"

Harry didn't know whether he should be proud or angry for having been pimped out by his French lover.

"That still doesn't explain why I wasn't told." He remarked dryly. Fleur opened her mouth to respond, before shutting it with a wince.

"I assumed you would like it."

"I do, this time, but what about next time. Will you make the decision as to who will join us without my _consent_? You know I can't stop myself."

The raven-haired young man's voice had taken a hard edge causing the veela to visibly flinch. "It won't happen again, master. I promise."

Harry's displeasure evaporated at the word 'master', his countenance shifting from slight anger to resignation.

"Bloody hell…"

"'arry?"

"You arranged a threesome for me with another gorgeous blonde, Fleur. Instead of being thankful and grateful, I act like an ass and blame you. It's not you, it's me."

The boy dropped his head into his hands as the veela hesitantly wrapped her arms around him in comfort.

Fleur had warned him about the physiological, physical and mental effects being a male veela would have on him. But to know something abstractly and to experience it in reality are two different things.

Last night at the feast and now today, he had no doubt his excessive exuberance, border-line arrogant confidence, his adrenaline pumped aggression, his hormone induced sexual prowess and his feeling of godlike empowerment, were all due to the effects of being what he was. Harry was afraid to admit that he loved and enjoyed every minute of it.

"Last night, Hermione confronted me while I was still high from my little speech. She went on a mini-spew, chiding me for my speech. It used to be that I found it kind of cute and maybe even endearing, but last night, it sounded whiny and annoyed me to no ends, so I told her, in not very kind words, to mind her own business."

Unsure what to say, Fleur waited a few moments before offering a hesitant. "That seemed reasonable."

"No, it's not reasonable! She's 14 and so is Ron. They are supposed to act like that: to whine, to complain, and maybe bicker a bit. But now, I find myself increasingly annoyed with their inane arguments; with Ron's jealousy every time I talk with you or your friends; with Hermione and her blind 'follow the rule' mentality. They were good, even loyal friends, all things considered. But now, that's no longer enough and I find myself growing inclined to distance myself from them."

"… I'm afraid of revealing my secrets, Fleur, because I know doing so will only set me up for betrayal. I see Ron saying a tad much in a sniping argument with Malfoy or yelling it all out in a fit of childish jealousy. I see Hermione, with her mind unguarded, running to Dumbledore, spilling her guts out." He remarked with disgust, either at his friends for how they were liable to act, or at himself for how cold he was being in his assessment about them.

Harry sighed, suddenly looking far older than he is.

"They simply aren't mature enough for this and I'm all but willing to let them go. I… I can live with that. But might I also, some day, grow tired of you, Regine or any of the other girls I might gain?"

The thought seemed to profoundly disturb Harry, but Fleur had no easy answer for as similar fears percolate her mind.

"Is that what I'll end up being like in the future? I can't say I didn't enjoy the changes, Fleur, but I can't say I'm not concerned about them either."

The veela squeezed her lover in support.

"I don't know what the future holdz for us, 'arry, but the very fact zat you are thinking about it in the way you are fillz me wiz hope. As for your friendz, I'm afraid I can't help you az I'm not impartial, but maybe zis can."

Harry looked with interest at the small, black, and ancient looking, notebook Fleur pulled out.

"Open it." The Gryffindor did as instructed.

"But, there's no writing in it…" _'Strange. The outside cover looks really old, but the inside pages are all new.'_

"It's charmed?" The veela nodded.

"After our first night, I suspected zat you were a male veela, so I sent for this. Zis iz my last gift for you, 'arry. It'z an old family heirloom and it'z believed to have been the **Diary of Thanatos**."

"The last male veela?" Harry's eyes widened as his lover nodded.

"I thought you said there were no surviving records of him." The anxious Gryffindor leafed through the empty pages. Briefly, he reminisced about Riddle's diary, which he destroyed in his second year, but shook off the thought. Since this was an old treasure of Fleur's family, it should be safe.

"There aren't az none 'as ever seen what'z written in it. Thanatos waz a great scholar. It'z believed that 'e enchanted 'is texts so that only a drop of blood, willingly shed, from another male veela, can unlock ze secretz of 'is writings."

Harry looked at the small diary-sized booklet, which may hold all the answers he seeks. He felt his mouth turn dry.

"Thank you, Fleur, for everything." Harry crushed the veela girl against him in a smothering bear hug. "… And none of that 'you were only doing what you are supposed to do' crap. I don't even want to think what I would be like, if it weren't for all you. I know we haven't been together long, but it feels like we have shared a lifetime already. I won't let you go, Fleur, ever."

Fleur felt herself float as her heart literally soared with joy. Surely, the gods must have been beaming at her for them to have given her such a loving and sweet man. Confined within the warm embrace of her love, the girl could only purr in delight as the Casanova whispered more sweet nothings into her ear while idly stroking her long silvery-blonde mane.

"I'm going to miss you and Regine, but you in particular."

Harry lamented as he prepared to leave, having secured the Beauxbatons-Durmstrang recommendations document and Thanatos's diary inside his robes.

"I'm sure you'll be plentiful supplied wiz ze meanz to relieve your frustration." The veela teased.

"It's not just sex. Jeesh, I created a monster." Harry supplied with mock exasperation.

The two laughed uproariously. The statement wasn't too far from the truth. Except for that first time in the astral-plane, Fleur had been fairly docile the first few times the two coupled. She gradually became more playful and creative as time went on, perhaps, as a result of becoming more comfortable and at ease with her lover.

"Would you like it if I include my escapades in the letters, as well?"

Fleur furrowed her face as if in deep thought, before smiling coquettishly back at him.

"Hmm, why don't you decide?" Harry rolled his eyes.

"Right, but that's assuming I can receive and send mail at all. Dumbledore will most likely either block or scan everything and I'm not keen on him snooping on our exchanges."

"Zat iz a problem. Regine and I will figure something out. You just enjoy yourself, 'arry. Remember what my best friend said: 'make sure you 'av plenty of practice'."

Harry muttered something about a certain insufferable veela, as he gave his delectable lover one last sensual kiss.

"_Je t'aime_, 'arry." The veela called out instinctively.

Harry stopped at the doorway of the opulent chamber. Given the peculiar bond between the two lovers and how it was formed, Harry was a bit uncomfortable with the placement and usage of the sacred 4 lettered L-word in their relationship. Fleur was keenly aware of this and didn't push him, knowing that just because he didn't say it, didn't mean he did not feel it. In fact, it was as if he didn't feel right saying the words so he reciprocated with action. Plus, the intelligent veela quickly found that when uttered at the right moment, the L-word induced a wonderful reaction from Harry that usually left her smiling and feeling sore for hours after.

But now was not that moment and Fleur wanted to kick herself for her inopportune choice of words, thinking that she had ruined their last moment together. But to her surprise and joy, Harry turned around, smiling back at her and uttered in perfect Parisian French:

"_Je t'aime aussi, Fleur_."

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Harry's mind was a whirl mind of jumbling thoughts as he walked along the empty corridors of the castle.

"Harry!" The Gryffindor turned to see his friends racing to catch up to him. '_Damn_.' Harry swore, silently wishing he could have put off meeting his friends for a time when he had pulled his thought together. Alas, his wish was granted, though perhaps not in the manner he expected.

"Potter." A sneering voice called out.

'_Oh, bloody hell.'_

"Professor Snape." Harry greeted, with far more cheer than he felt, while mentally cursing the deities that be.

Ron and Hermione, now caught up, stared at the potions master with loathing in the former case, and worry in the latter.

"The headmaster has requested your presence, Potter." Casting a scornful look at his companions, Snape added, "…alone."

From the way Snape sounded, Harry was fairly positive, that THAT was not a request. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the Slytherin adult answered fierce protests from his friends with points deduction. Right, like that was going to do anything at this point. What's next, threat of detention?

After some quick planning, Harry decided on what to do.

"I'll be fine. I'll see you guys later." Harry calmly assured his friends. Neither was comfortable with the idea of leaving him with their most hated professor, but Harry's calmness seemed to mollify them somewhat. After a few tense moments, his friends departed while Harry turned to walk to Dumbledore's lair without so much as a glance at Snape.

Harry had no doubt that it must have irked the greasy git terribly for his most hated student to ignore him so and to turn his back on him as if he weren't enough of a threat to warrant his attention. That was the whole point, of course; to get Snape all riled up before the meeting.

For too long, the old man had used the hated professor as a decoy so that while he was flustered with anger, and his attention generally diverted on his hated professor, Dumbledore would whittle under Harry's defenses, while carrying out the role of being his 'protector'. Too long had he been ignorant of this farce and many times had he often shuddered, thinking about how long and how far it would have gone. But with the discovery of his newfound knowledge and intelligence, things have been different. During the meeting regarding Slytherin students' improprieties, Harry had, at last, successfully used Dumbledore's own weapon against him. The premise of the plan was brilliant in its simplicity. Basically, Harry subtly provoked Snape as much possible during the meeting, while generally remaining, calm himself. The idea was to turn Snape into a hot potato, with all the diplomatic tact and subtlety of a porcupine and about as easy to control as a hungry Tasmanian devil, so that he became a liability for the headmaster. The result of the first trial example would indicate that the plan had worked rather flawlessly and Harry was rather eager for a retest to make sure.

Of course, in this case, there was the possibility that crazy Snapey would lose it and curse him outright, which given how his back was turned, would have put him at a severe disadvantage. But, Harry was confident enough that that wouldn't happen, for now at least. And once again, the sage male veela was correct as he eased himself into the pro-offered seat and denied the smiling old man's offer of his favorite.

"About your behavior last night, Harry."

"Absolutely unacceptable! He should be expelled..."

"Severus, please." The headmaster groaned tiredly. For a moment, Harry felt a twinge of pity for the old man, before quickly and ruthlessly crushing it. Old habits die hard it seems.

'_I need to be careful.'_ Harry chided himself. For all he knew, it could be another one of his traps. Constant vigilance and all that. _'One thing that crock got right.'_

"The Tri-wizard Tournament is a means for students from countries to interact with one another and show solidarity. Is this image of animosity the one you want to give to them about us and about yourself?"

"What image, professor? Haven't you received the letter?" When he received blank looks, Harry withdrew the parchment Fleur gave him and handed it to Dumbledore. The headmaster frowned for one instant as he looked through it, but it was long enough for Harry to catch it. Snape didn't try so hard to hide his displeasure as he gave it an once over, spluttering over words like 'honored', 'kind' and 'most helpful' being associated in tandem with the name 'Harry James Potter'.

"I would like to have it back if I may." Harry added, seeing Snape, who seemed to be visibly itching to tear it apart.

"I have been told that a copy has been sent to you, sir and to the Ministry of Magic. That's my personal copy and given that it's a pretty high honor from our foreign guests, I'm looking to having it framed." Snape looked like he really want nothing more than to have the document burned, preferably via the heat conducted through his hateful gaze. A hard stare from his master/headmaster, however, forced his hand.

"Still, there's the matter of you advocating violence against your fellow school mates, even after the death of one of them. I'm most disappointed in you, Harry. What would Cedric think?"

Harry lowered his head to give the image of feeling shame, but inside he was seething. _'Bastard…'_

"I think Cedric would be pleased that I'm using the opportunity to educate the wizarding world about the dangers around them."

"What nonsense, Potter!"

Dumbledore held his hand up to stop his professor's tirade.

The male veela felt a cold empowering force take hold of him.

"Do you know what landscaping is, professor?" Harry asked, seemingly out of the blue, while staring coolly at Snivelus.

"I do not believe I do."

"I did a bit of that for my muggle relatives over the summer. There's many parts to it, but for me, it was basically just busy work, pulling out the weed in the yard."

"I see."

"I like to think I did a good job, sir, clearing the weeds, that is."

"Foolish boy. A simple cleaning spell could have done it in an instant."

"Unfortunately, it seems that certain regulations in the wizarding world prevent me from casting such a simple spell." Harry responded. Snape shut up rather quickly.

"I'm sure you did a wonderful job Harry." The headmaster remarked kindly, complete with those damn, blasted twinkling eyes . Harry could see that he was still confused. _'… you'll understand, old man, soon enough.'_ He thought coldly.

"I thought so too, though my aunt didn't." He tried very hard not to push too much malice into that sentence. "My aunt was angry that almost all of her flower bushes died and blamed me for not having cleared away the weeds that suffocated them."

Snape was glaring at him, no doubt wondering why he was wasting his time listening to gardening lessen from Potter. _'Soon enough…'_ Harry promised.

"She was right, professor, but not because I didn't clear away the weeds. I did. It's just that they grew back too quickly."

"No matter how hard I worked, more kept coming back because I couldn't get rid of the roots. I suggested using herbicides – those are the muggle chemicals used to kill weeds – but my aunt refused, saying that it would hurt her flowers. But, those herbicides would have taken out the roots I couldn't get with my bare hands."

Mentally, Harry allowed himself a dark smile as he saw Dumbledore's eyes going cold.

"It may be that some flowers may have been damaged or killed, but the result would ultimately have been far better than letting the weeds take out all those bushes. Those weeds spread like wildfire, professor, and they utterly consumed the soil, crowding out and choking the flowers of their vital nutrients. I couldn't keep up; whenever I cleared an area, more just grow right back up. I guess in the end, you could say that _I tried my best_, _but that ultimately wasn't enough_."

"My aunt was pretty angry when I said to her '_I told you so_,' but in the end, she agreed that I was right. But even though in the end, herbicides ultimately were used and worked, all those flowers still died needlessly. I think it would have been much better if herbicides were used right at the beginning. Don't you think so as well, professor?"

Harry's question was answered with silence.

"Is there anything else, professor?"

"No, I think that'll be all. Good luck, and have a good summer, my boy." The headmaster genuinely tried to smile, but Harry knew better. The 'my boy' comment almost caused him to visibly twitch, but he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of doing that. Victory was definitely his this time.

After dismissing an angry, spluttering and, most likely, confused potions master, a pensive Dumbledore collapsed in his chair.

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"Harry, what did Dumbledore want?"

Harry held his hands up as his friends assaulted him as soon as he returned.

"Yeah, and why did he send the greasy git?"

"Ronald Weasley. That's no way to talk about a professor."

"Well, the git's a menace and doesn't deserve to teach. Harry's with me on this one, right?"

"Honestly Ron, will you remember that Dumbledore trusts him." Harry looked at his bookish friend with incredulity. Little things like this really made it hard for him to take the initiative to make up with his friends.

"Ever wonder why?" The redhead thought viciously. For once, Harry silently agreed.

"What did he want?"

"He just wanted to talk. Nothing happened." In his defense, Harry didn't mean to intentionally end the conversation, but he really wasn't comfortable talking about what happened.

The trio settled into an uneasy silence until Ron spoke up.

"So where were did you disappear to, mate? We searched everywhere."

"Parvati said she saw you near the Beauxbatons carriage." Hermione added suspiciously. The bushy haired bookworm was probably one of the very few that thought something might be going on between him and his Beauxbatons companion – no, make that companions.

'_Just great.' _Harry cursed the high heavens for Parvati's keen observation skills – keen in the nosy kind of way, of course – and her big mouth. He said he was sorry for the damn, bloody ball, didn't he?

Oh what the hell. Honesty's the best policy right?

"Fleur was looking for me."

"What!" Or…maybe not based on the redness developing across both Ron and Hermione's faces. It was a testament of Harry's enormous control over his will power that he didn't outwardly react to his friends' 'outrages'. These outrages leading to remarks such as:

"Bloody hell! Why always you!" That was Ron of course.

"Harry, she might be dangerous! Remember Moody's imposter?" Hermione.

And then when Harry revealed that Fleur wanted to see him privately to avoid public eyes, he got:

"You shouldn't trust people you don't know!"

"Why didn't you invite me!" Harry felt some form of unnatural, hot rage shoot through him as he forced himself not to make a vow to turn his supposedly best friend into his personal practice dummy the next time the redhead so much as looked at his beloved French veela the wrong way.

'_For god's sake, I don't need this!'_ Harry thought viciously.

"Just shut up and listen for a moment!" The impatient male veela finally cried out in anger. The two other Gryffindors immediately shut up, rather surprised at the force of their friend's command.

"She just wanted to give me a thank you gift and didn't want to make it public." Harry offered coolly. Let them make up what they would from that completely truthful and yet ambiguous and most certainly misleading statement.

"You mean for saving Gabrielle?" Guessed the ever-logical Hermione. His two friends took Harry's silence to be a yes, which for '_some_' reason greatly reassured them, especially Ron.

Hermione soon left to pick up her stuff, leaving Harry with his arguably denser than brick red-haired friend. To be fair, it wasn't long ago when he, himself, was of a similar mind, but screw fairness! Ron was all but admitting to having wet dreams and masturbating to his Fleur and Harry did not appreciate that one bit.

Needless to say, Harry was very pissed as all of his recent concerns about his past identity and friendships gave way to the almost all-powerful urge to assert the supremacy of his alpha masculinity before this infantile male upstart. But somehow, Harry fought down that urge.

"I should be jealous, but I guess, you deserved it." Ron, of course, was thinking of Harry's role in saving little Gabrielle.

"So, were you and Fleur, like ahm… alone?"

It's a sign of Harry's enormous willpower when he managed not to outwardly react, when hit with the image of the half-dressed, libidinous French prefect sauntering towards him while Fleur looked on.

"Not exactly." The redhead didn't even try to hide his sigh of relief.

"Too bad about that then, mate. At least you got yourself a nice parting gift, right?"

This time, the image of two exotic heads, respectively crowned with golden and silvery blonde manes, fiercely battling each other over the right to drain Harry jr. briefly flashed across Harry's mind.

"Yeah, you could say that, _mate_." The raven-haired male veela admitted, draping an arm over the youngest male Weasley, who completely missed his friend's thin smile.

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**Translation:**

**Je t'aime aussi** – I love you too


	7. Andrea and Grace

**Posted: 2/4/2006**

**Beta: Yogert**

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**Chapter 7: Andrea and Grace**

"DINNER!" The shaking voice of Vernon Dursley boomed once from downstairs.

The raven-haired teen, for which the bellow was directed at, ignored it favor of fumbling with Thanatos's supposed diary with his hands as he sat hunched over at his desk.

After returning to his summer residence, the male veela had wasted no time in stating how things would be different this summer from previous ones. After setting up crude, but effective magic dampers around the house to prevent detection by the ministry, Harry treated his skeptical relatives to a truly spectacular magic show as they tried to avoid being showered with fragments of exploding household objects. Naturally, they were angry and pissed; 'little' – if the word could be used in such a cavaliering and oxymoronic manner – Dudley, in particular, seemed intent on doing the pissing himself. Harry smiled at the thought. After that, it wasn't too hard convincing his 'family' that it was in their interest to avoid contacting/hassling him at all.

Harry drummed his fingers on the beaten table nervously. He felt surprisingly giddy as he picked up the pin, pressing its sharp head against the tip of his index finger.

'_Here's goes nothing.' _

A quick prick; a brief tinge of pain; a sense of a great power being released and…

'_Wow.' _Before his very eyes, the bare booklet was transformed; increasing in size in all three dimensions. Harry briefly flipped through the now dusky, yellow pages, lined with text and pictorial images and graphs.

"**The** **Definitive Compilation of a Male Veela: History, Theories and Practices **_by Le Seigneur__Thanatos_."

'**_Welcome, heir and successor.' _**The writing began.

'… **_If you are reading then you most likely have an idea about who or what you are, or at least you think you do. Let me assure you that you, in fact, know NOTHING! But with this text and with the knowledge it offers, which I compiled out of decades of research and personal experience, you will… 'IF' you fully accept what fate has bestowed upon you.' _**

Harry felt a pull from the diary, much like one from Riddle's when it showed him its corrupted memory. Momentarily, survival instinct kicked in as he resisted.

'**_But what if it's right…'_** The young, newly initiated male veela was dying to know what was happening to him. If the book could provide him with the answers. Besides, Fleur did personally gave it to him didn't she. Surely, she would never have done it if she thought it would have harmed him, would she?

'_No, of course not!'_ Harry's mind yelled. Reassured with this line of reasoning, he took the plunge into the unknown.

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The muggles, who saw the 14 year old, trudging along sedately, would have guessed, if not for his excessively youthfulness, that he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. They had no idea how right they were.

Harry Potter sighed as he ran the thoughts over his mind once again. The experience of first contact with the mysterious Thanatos's diary had not been pleasant, given how it tried to cram quite possibly years of information, knowledge and indeed, training into him over hours of time. Apparently his male veela predecessor felt the need to ensure that his successor was qualified to defend himself. Funny how Harry was now thanking that painful experience of having Voldemort's memories transferred to him; it prepared him for what Thanatos's diary did.

Harry didn't complain too much, though. Thanatos, who ever he was, was, as Fleur had said, a great scholar. The diary had gone to great length and detail to explain what he was and to provide insights about what he could and should do, i.e. building his harem. (He had groaned initially when presented with the racial specs and compatibility estimates of all the major species and sub-species) In addition, with even just a brief glimpse of Thanatos's writings, Harry knew that this male veela was a being, who was not only far ahead of his time, but also far beyond it.

'_Will I be like this one day?'_ He wondered, feeling a twinge of awe and excitement.

Possibly, but for now, Harry knew he needed to focus. In addition to acquiring new 'powers', or as it was, learning about how to utilize what he always had, the young man also discovered their accompanying vulnerabilities and associated hindrances. At the very least, he needed to accelerate his procurement operations, preferably with a trip to Diagon Alley: New wands, equipment, disguises, supplementary texts, some dark artifacts, general potions and ritual ingredients were all at the top of this exhaustive list.

'_Bugger.'_ This wasn't going to be easy especially with Dumbledore and Voldemort on his arse.

'_One step at a time. I got surprise on my side.'_

Harry turned around the corner, only to be greeted with a very interesting sight. The male alpha dominus smiled.

"Get lost you creeps!"

"What? Listen here, I'm sick and tired of you, you snotty little bitch, so we are going to teach you and your girlfriend a little lesson." The angry red head who had yelled, backed up in fright as the two bulky boys advanced.

"Is that a fact, Dudders?" Dudley and his friend whirled around on him.

"Potter!"

"Piers, how are you?" The wizard calmly asked, smiling at his cousin's friend and old tormentor.

"Get out of here, Potter. This doesn't concern you."

Harry serenely smiled at the cornered girls and then at the pudgy boy, who tried to be intimidating, but failed miserably.

"Is that so, Piers? How about if you leave these lovely ladies alone, I let you go." Piers gave him a look over that said 'you must be joking'. Harry shot the incredulous red head a reassuring smile.

"It's been too long since we taught you a lesson. Come on Dudley!" Since Piers was even lower on the evolutionary ladder than Dudley (why else would one join Dudley's gang), he never realized why Dudley had suddenly gone pale, or why he had backed away from his 'scrawny' cousin. Piers of course, didn't care if ickle Harry seemed just a tad less scrawny now. Oh no, it had been too long since he had had a go at his and Dudley's favorite punching bag. Only the speed and shock of how fast Harry moved prevented the bulky boy from feeling the pain of having his shoulder twisted and then having his face smeared against the cold pavement.

"Arghhh!" The muggle girls looked on with horrified fascination as a snap sound indicated that Piers had one of his shoulders dislocated by a boy about half his weight and three-fourth his size.

"What did I say about going the other way when you see me walking, Dudley! Get this scum out of here." The shaken pudgy boy grabbed his injured friend and high tailed out of there, while his freak of a cousin looked on with cold satisfaction.

"You are Harry Potter!"

Harry turned to be greeted with a wide-eyed, finger pointing, redhead who looked at him like he was a dark lord. Bad example, but apt given the accusative glare he was being given.

"Ahm, yes. That's correct."

"I'm Andrea." The male veela happily turned his attention away from the glaring girl to her smiling friend, who stepped forward to introduce herself. Unlike her friend, the smiling brunette didn't seem the least phased by his quick and brutal treatment of Piers. In fact, the girl, as opposed to her stressed and nervous friend, was almost radiating confidence.

"I guess you already know who I am." Harry chuckled. Andrea laughed lightly as well, much to the displeasure of her friend it seemed.

Almost unconsciously, Harry appraised the two girls, who looked roughly his age. Andrea had deep, really deep, soulful brown eyes and dark brown hair that fanned out in lush, long trusses. The darkened cum tanned complexion made him guess that she might have some Portuguese, Spanish or possibly Hispanic blood in her. While a young girl, still yet in the fresh of bloom, Harry could very clearly see in the contours of her figure, an outline of the kind of body that decorate male entertainment magazines.

Glancing over her, Harry thought that the stiff, most likely of Irish descent, red-haired girl vaguely reminded him of Ginny Weasley, light freckles, pale skin and straight auburn hair running past her shoulder. Two things set them apart, however. One, Ginny would _never_ look at her savior with quite so sour an expression or wore such stylish and presumably expensive attire. And two, in all honest opinion, he highly doubted that Ginny could ever possess the assets this redhead would most definitely in time have in abundance. They weren't much now, but in a few years, Harry was willing to bet that this muggle just might give Lavender a run for her money. Harry paused momentarily to adjust that thought. Nah, no one could compete with Lavender in _that_ area, no one who was natural, that is.

"What are you looking at, pervert!"

Harry blinked while a slightly shocked Andrea berated her friend for being rude. To the surprise of both girls, rather than looking away with an embarrassed blush or firing back an angry retort, the male only looked back at her in amusement.

"Nothing at all." The male veela answered as the image of his two lovely and years older blonde bombshells entered his mind. Harry deliberately arched his eyebrows as he 'leered' at the red head's bosoms, causing the girl to fold her arms to cover herself. Harry smiled in triumph as he saw her turning her head away, fighting a losing battle to keep a bright blush from spreading across her pale skin.

'_Ha.'_ And he didn't even need to use his male veela 'charm'. Harry shot Andrea a knowing wink as her eyes shined with amusement.

"Well, I guess you know who I am." Much to his annoyance, the redhead pulled her friend away before he could shake the brunette's hand.

"He goes to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys!" The male veela's eyes narrowed as the irritating girl stabbed an accusing finger at him. Her friend looked at him and then back at her and seemed undeterred by the assertion.

"Really?"

"YES!"

"That would be rude, Grace. Besides Harry helped get rid of those two. It's only polite to thank him."

Grace wasn't pleased with the prospect.

"Oh please, I have seen you fight. You could have easily taken care of them."

'_So that's why she wasn't surprised by the nasty dislocation I gave Piers.'_ Harry thought. Clearly, the young girl had been trained. That explained why she was practically exuding confidence. _'Most impressive.'_

"…The freak is probably just eliminating the competition so that he can try to get in our pants."

"Rest assured, Miss. Park that this 'freak' will _not_ try to get in your pants." Harry stated icily, injecting just a tad bit power, which helped shut the irritating girl up. Stepping forward, and allowing his power and sexual prowess to exude from him, he added softly but forcefully, "…he either will or he won't. There is no 'try'!" The red head visibly shuddered in response.

Now Harry remembered who the redhead was and she definitely was no carbon copy of Ginny. Sole daughter of a financial magnate/banker who had recently hit big, Gracelyne Park was the epitome of the spoiled child even before her family became rich. Second only to Dudley and his gang, little miss perfect, Gracey Park, had been most responsible for making young Harry a universal outcast, using her status and jeering words to turn everyone away from him.

Briefly, Harry felt the urge to lead the picture perfect girl to a quiet place and abuse her budding body until she begged him to take her innocence. But, of course, it would be entirely 'consensual' and Harry would ensure that it was the most enjoyable experience she ever, or will, have. A sinister smile crossed the alpha male's face. Yeah, he could make it so enjoyable that she'd be coming back again and again, begging for it like the little bitc…

Harry shook himself free of such degrading thoughts. No, he couldn't. _'I won't sink to that level.'_ He vowed.

Casting a disapproving eye at her friend, Andrea stepped forward.

"I apologize for my friend, Harry."

"Quite alright." A clear lie, of course, as seen by the piercing gaze the male gave the other girl. To the surprise of Andrea, instead of storming up a fiery argument, her flushed friend only looked down demurely as if chastised. The male before her was definitely one in a million. She had never seen anyone so in control when dealing with a temperamental Gracelyne Park and cow her so. Andrea's instinct told her to learn more about this fine specimen and her instinct had never been wrong before.

"I just moved here so Grace, who's an old friend of mine, is showing me around. _We_ would love it if you would join us." Andrea dared her friend to object. The redhead wisely held her tongue.

"I do not wish to intrude." Harry politely deferred, nodding towards Grace.

"Oh, but you must, Mr. Potter. Who else would protect us if we get into trouble once more? Surely, you would not abandon us here." Harry laughed as Andrea's eyes flashed with mirth, much to the consternation of an upset redhead who was feeling quite neglected. Then before anyone could protest, the brunette had latched upon both Harry and Grace's arms and began dragging them off.

"So where do you go to school?" The brunette asked.

"I actually go to a boarding school up north."

"Really? One of my best friends goes to one too, also in the north. How is it?"

"It's a unique experience."

"Ha, my friend says the same thing. Maybe you guys go to the same school." Andrea suggested jokingly.

"Maybe." Harry supplied cautiously. A badly disguised cough from the side distracted the two.

"Oh right. We better go. I'll see you around Harry. Let's meet up sometime." The tanned girl added with a wink as Harry felt a piece of paper slip between his hands. The male veela couldn't help but smile as Andrea waved back at him as her irate friend pulled her away.

'_Wow, address and phone number.'_ He was unexpectedly pleased as he didn't do anything consciously to try and influence her. Here he was thinking that he would need to go into a muggle bar and blast the room full of his love dust to get some relief. But then he might just do that anyways considering it was highly doubtful one muggle girl would be enough. Thanatos's diary had provided him with various techniques that, apparently, could help one, even a male veela, control himself, but rather not risk. Plus, he had taken a liking to this muggle girl; not the loving or let's shag kind of liking he had for Fleur or even Regine, but he liked Andrea, nonetheless. As such he wasn't too sure he was willing to use her for the purpose of satisfying his unnatural lust. But her friend Gracelyne was, of course, a completely different matter.

Humming a light tune, Harry skipped down the street, significantly more cheered than before. Now, all he had to do was take care of that shopping list of his.

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Andrea sighed wistfully as she dropped onto the squishy queen sized bed. Gracelyne had muttered something about going out, but the brunette girl didn't hear her. She was still feeling high from her run-in with the resident cutie. She usually didn't latch onto guys she just barely met. No, she left that to her friends, usually Gracey. But something about this Harry Potter just called her to him, especially with the way he handled those two apes. Having seen the 'people' that were his guardians and his cousin, she didn't believe for one minute that their nephew was an incurable criminal. Personally, she didn't know why her friend was so prissy around him.

'_Maybe they used to date and it ended badly.'_ The half- Spanish girl thought. That was definitely possible. No matter. she needed to prepare for the arrival of one of her best friends, or rather just best friend, if she were brutally honest.

Bouncing back up, Andrea moved around to get ready.

"Guess who?" The brunette yelped in surprise when two hands covered her eyes.

"Daphne!" She shrieked. A soft chuckle answered her as the hands moved away.

How she hated it when her friend appeared out of thin air like that. But what the hell, this was her best friend. Letting out another shriek, Andrea bear hugged her old childhood friend.

"So how was school?" She asked after, arm draped over Daphne.

"The usual. I'm glad it's over for the year. So, how's the bestest of my best friends?" The black haired teen asked.

"Sad that she still hasn't even met her bestest of best friends' _girlfriend_." Andrea replied with an arched look. Daphne made some non-committal sound that caused the darkly tanned girl to pout cutely.

"Where's _Gracey_?" The brunette rolled her eyes at her friend's obvious attempt to change the subject. _'Fine. Be that way.'_

"She's out and don't call her in that voice."

"What voice?"

"You know what I mean. She hates it when you do and I don't want my best friends fighting one another. Please?"

"Fine." Daphne acquiesced. She had a heart as cold as hard steel at school and could reduce older guys to whimpers with a single glare but never learned to say 'no' to her friend when she pulled her puppy eyed look. "So why isn't she here?"

"I think I made her angry by making a pass on her boyfriend." She said sadly.

The raven-haired girl made a half-choking, half-snickering sound. Seeing her friend glare at her, she broke out in a fit of laughter that left her stomach hurting.

"I'm serious, Daphne. But he was so cute I couldn't resist chatting him up! And he didn't blush once. Oh and he was so dreamy…definitely dreamy." Daphne snickered more. Andrea just didn't call boys dreamy. If Gracey did that, that would be normal, but _not_ Andrea.

"Jeez, sounds like you're _in love_ with '_him'_." The brunette rolled her eyes at the way her friend said the word 'him' in disgust.

"You know, you really should try a guy sometime. Who knows, you might enjoy rubbing his bum." While Daphne loved her friend dearly, her words still went in one ear and out the other.

"Maybe." She said unconvincingly. "But I like my bums just the way they are."

Andrea screeched as Daphne gave her delicate rump a firm slap. The girl's eyes narrowed. She was going to get it now. Her friend knew better than to do that. Hair flying, the brunette leaped at her assailant only to have her laughing friend danced away and ran out the door.

"Get back here, Daphne Greengrass!" She cried as she gave chase.

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**Translation:**

**Seigneur **– Lord


	8. Diagon Alley and Hogwarts Girls

**Rating:** T for **blood**, **gore** and **violence.**

**Posted: 2/4/2006**

**Beta: Yogert**

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**Chapter 8: Diagon Alley and Hogwarts Girls**

**Diagon Alley... **

Harry had intended to make the trip to collect supplies as soon as possible but alas, the constant presence of the crazy cat woman, Mrs. Figg, AKA his watcher for Dumbledore forced him to delay his plans until she left for London on a semi-long trip.

Getting the needed gold from the goblins had been problematic given his minority status and his particular need for anonymity, but Harry was most insistent. Coupled with a very generous bonus, the young Gryffindor managed to win the goblin manager over to his side and won his promise to not disclose his confidentiality to his de-facto guardian, who was, of course, Albus Dumbledore. Harry reminded himself to find some loophole in wizarding law to get himself emancipated as soon as possible. There was no way he was staying under that old geezer's thumb until he was 17 or 18 or whatever the age of majority was.

Harry dusted his shoulders as he walked out of the dinky and dark apothecary. He couldn't say he especially enjoyed this part of his little excursion: wandering into smelly, dimly lit lairs to haggle with decrepit half-dead zombies and old hags over some obscure dried powder or some fossilized remains of decade old animals. Even having cast the most obscure glamour disguise he could find from his memories, Harry still felt the need to constantly scan his surroundings; certain was he that squads of Death Eaters would spring from the shadows and jump him as soon as he let down his guard.

Paranoia aside, this trip to Knockturn Alley was very much necessary as it was the closest and most easily accessible area that sold the rare and often times illegal ingredients Thanatos's Diary had advised him to acquire. The glamour charm was rather half baked, and fairly weak, but it did hide his magical signature somewhat, was very low key and ancient enough so that no one would notice unless they were specifically looking for it. Supplemented with hair dye, contact lenses and some simple muggle cosmetics, which neatly covered his scar, Harry managed to blend in with the magical general populace for the first time in his life.

"Come on, let's get out of here!"

"Blaise… you… here alone?" Harry turned to see two vaguely familiar looking girls running past him. _'Blaise…'_ Of course, Blaise Zabini, the dusky, tall, and quite pretty, Slytherin girl in his year. At the end of the year, Harry had done a brief survey of the Slytherin students, mostly to see who fell inline with Malfoy and the rest of the junior DEs and who did not. Now, while he was almost certain not all of the Slytherins were DEs (hence proving stereotypes false), the Gryffindor was somewhat disappointed to learn that sympathizers and sympathy for the Dark Lord all but dominate the upper years of Slytherin House. Blaise, however, Harry recalled was a most 'pleasant' exception. Harry briefly allowed thoughts of liplocking with dark beauty to percolate through his mind.

'_I need a good shag…'_ The male veela admitted, but then groaned when he realized what he was thinking. '_Can't believe I'm thinking like this. At least Sirius will be pleased or jealous at least…'_ Now that made him smile. He could just imagine his tomcat of a god-father urging him onwards.

'Oh, why the heck not.' Harry took two steps in the direction Blaise and the other girl went when loud screams and sound of clashes erupted from that direction. The male veela swore as like the good Gryffindor he was, he drew his wand and charged into a likely battle.

Harry turned into the desolate and empty alley to see Blaise being thrown roughly against the wall by a large, burly man.

"**_Stupefy!_**" The jet of light smashed into the assailant, but Harry watched incredulously as the being just shrugged it off as if it was nothing. Harry didn't have long to wonder, however, as the man, no the animal came charging at him.

'Bloody hell, werewolves!'

Harry flipped, rolled to the side, barely dodging the super-strengthened part human, part animal.

"**_Ossum Oblido!_**" The young Gryffindor watched with satisfaction as the spell shattered the werewolf's shoulder blade. Taking no chance, Harry rained half a dozen more spells on the large beast, until it crumbled to the ground and was howling in pain.

On the peripheral of his vision, Harry saw Blaise slumped on the ground and quickly jogged over to check how she was.

"Oh, my head…" Harry gave the girl small injection of magical power to help her recover.

'At least she's alive.' The same, however, might not be true for her friend very soon, Harry noticed. Blaise's friend, a girl with reddish hair tied in ponytails was dueling another werewolf, and was so far displaying great skill, dodging and weaving around the lumbering creature but it was clear that the witch was fighting a losing battle as her opponent seemed to be able to absorb most of her spells. Harry was at first puzzled as she didn't fit the profile of anyone he checked out of the three major houses… unless she was.

The girl suddenly yelped as she tripped, falling to the ground. The werewolf howled in triumph, swiping at the vulnerable and paralyzed with fear witch with his massive sharp claws.

"**_Accio_** Susan!" The surprised girl through the air, just slipping past the murderous wolf's claws and into Harry's extended arms. The girls initially tensed at the unexpected contact, but then relaxed as Harry directed subtle feelings of comfort and assurance towards her.

"It's going to be ok." The male veela stated with one of those semi-cheesy heart melting smiles, but it did the job of calming the frightened girl. Unfortunately their assailant wasn't about to stop just because Harry was in one of his 'moments' with a new girl.

"Watch out!" Acting out of reflex, Harry still with Susan in his arms, ducked down and out, just hair of an inch away from the raging animalistic werewolf's attacks. Depositing the girl beside her friend, Harry leaped back into action.

"**_Reducto!_**"

"**_Stupefy!_" **The male veela rained curse after curse on his opponent, his spells gradually leaning closer and closer, but not quite falling into the category of magic defined as the 'dark arts.'

"**_Maximus Reducto_**!" The spell nailed the charging werewolf in the chest sending it flying backwards.

'Bloody hell, that took a while.' Harry thought, noting that these two werewolves seemed much stronger than normal. Of course, he could have blasted them to smithereens, but given the audience (which includes the niece of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement) he had been forced to whittle down his opponent with high-powered versions of 'normal' curses.

"Wow!" Harry turned to see the two girls looking at him in awe and also a bit of fear. Alas, still, he must have given an impressive display of magical and physical prowess.

"It's alright ladies." He smiled warmly to show that he's no threat to them. Taking a closer look at the two, Harry confirmed that the two pretty young ladies were in fact Blaise and Susan. _'A Hufflepuff and a Slytherin huh? Who would have thought.'_

"Thanks for the help! Do I know you since you seemed to know my name?" Harry winced internally. _'Were Hufflepuffs supposed to be this sharp?'_

Fortunately Harry was saved from having to answer that question. Unfortunately, the reason was because the first werewolf he stunned had somehow revived.

"Watch out!" Blaise cried, pulling her friend away. Harry leaned to the side to dodge the werewolf's first strike, but having shifted his center of gravity too much, he was off balance and the wolf's second claw caught him right in the chest. Male veela he may be, but Harry still lived in a very much human body and hence found himself bouncing off of the pavement like a beat up rag doll as a result of the devastating hit. The spikes of pain quickly told him that he had at least one broken rib and several very tenderized and bloodied body parts. The girls, to their credit, though borderline-hysterical, did not remain idle as their savior was being pounded. A flurry of spells forced the werewolf back allowing Harry to tend to his injury.

"**_Percuro_**." He whispered as he felt the healing spell taking effect almost immediately. No more of this nice guy crap, Harry thought with anger, as he felt a maddening lust being pumped through his blood.

"**_Amburo!_**"

"**_Extermino!_**"

The girls watched in amazement as this stranger crushed the mighty werewolf with his spells. The first wolf jolted as if caught in a series of violent spasms and then went still just as the second one, the one that took a Maximized Reducto curse in the chest… rose up again. The two girls seemed quite distressed and Harry, himself, was wondering what the hell was going on. Werewolves shouldn't be this strong, not unless it was a full moon. It was like someone induced a full feral transformation in them, maybe more than a full transformation. Then there's the question of how come the fighting wasn't attracting any attention.

The wolf charged, the girls' bravery wavered and Harry did what his nature called him to do… _'Fuck it.'_

"_**Excidium** **Omnimodis Telum!**_" A long object, a missile of sort, encased in bright white colors screamed toward the risen werewolf. Its power was such that the girls reflexively placed their hands before them to shield themselves. For a fraction of a second after impact, it looked as if the spell was a dud. Then without warning, the werewolf literally imploded. (This in retrospect was quite preferable to exploding which would have covered the area, the girls and Harry with the spell's gruesome evidence.) Except for pieces of flesh and bones that sprinkled the floor, it was as if the bulky werewolf had never existed. Whatever sadistic satisfaction he might have felt, Harry quickly realized in horror what he had done and in front of witnesses. Not only that, in his haste to eliminate the enemy, he had grossly overexerted himself. His pathetic human body, exerted past the limit of its magical capacity, was shutting itself down in response.

'_Bloody hell.' _The male veela thought felt himself sweating profusely as his body burned up while his knees started buckling.

Seeing their savior crumble to the ground, the girls, who were very much ready to scream or run or do both, instantly reached out to support him.

"Susan, Blaise!"

"Arrragghh! Holy Merlin of… What happened?"

"Who's he?" Harry's mind buzzed with pain at the new voices.

Silence. _'Ah-oh, I know where this is going…'_

"HARRY!"

Harry cursed. His sweat must have washed away the cosmetics covering his scar and well it wasn't hard for any wizard or witch to figure him out after that. How many people had a green light bolt scar on their forehead. Harry, however, only managed to mumble something unintelligent.

"Are…they dead!"

More silence.

"Oh, what will we do?"

"… how did this happen?" Harry's headache intensified as he felt the rising level of hysteria and anxiety coming from the people around him, presumably, also Hogwarts students.

"… the aurors are coming!" Harry's jerked at the word 'aurors.' Yep, he was definitely screwed if they got their hands on him. He would be caught red handed with residues of the dark curses fresh on his wands. Even if his fame saved him from jail, he would be completely exposed to Dumbledore and Voldemort.

"No…no aurors…" He managed to squeak out before finally blacking out.

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"He's kind of cute, isn't he?" A giggle.

"Blaise!" The second speaker, which didn't sound like Susan, tried to sound outraged but that was hard considering she was giggling as well.

"What? He is, and if that French _veela_ was willing to admit it, why shouldn't I?"

"And what would your girlfriend say?"

Silence. Profound, prolonged uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry, Blaise..."

"It's alright. I, I am just surprised."

"Why didn't you tell us? Is this why you have been avoiding us all year? Why you went into Knockturn Alley _alone_?"

Blaise must have nodded as it provoked an outcry.

"We have been friends for _how_ long, Blaise? And did we treat you any differently after you were sorted into Slytherin?"

"No, no, of course not. I'm sorry. I was just afraid. You are my only friends and I couldn't bare losing you all…"

"Oh come on, my sister's as bent as a three galleon coin…well kind of. Anyway while she can be irritating at times, I still love her all the same." That bit of information apparently was news for a few of the other girls, as several 'what' were expressed in surprise.

"So that's why she commented about my arse!" The brunette exclaimed. Shuffled sounds could be heard, no doubt as a result of the nervous girl suddenly acquiring the attention of all her friends.

"Ok, thanks for sharing Lisa. What Padma is trying to say is that we don't care who you choose as your boyfriend or girlfriend. We'll still love you, Blaise." That was Susan, which is most surprising. Since when was a Hufflepuff known for being so assertive.

There were sounds of many more feet being shuffled around and numerous tall tell signs of hugs being exchanged enthusiastically between the girls.

"What do we do with sleeping beauty here?"

The girls arranged themselves around Harry's prone form.

"We can't stay here too long. I cleared us with my aunt, but she's bound to start looking for us if we stay out too long." That must be Susan again.

"Well, there is one sure way to wake up a sleeping beauty."

"Padma!"

"What? Don't tell me you never thought about it, Hannah. I recall hearing about him pulling you and Susan aside to '_talk_' with you. I can't believe you didn't kiss him then. With the two of you together, you could have easily cornered him. And maybe pass him around to your friends. Rumor has it that he's a great kisser."

"Padma! You are so bad!"

"What? What's wrong with sharing amongst friends?" Apparently a lot by the sounds of shrieks the Indian girl made as she dodged her friends.

"Hmmph, see if I share him then with you lot once my sister and I win him over."

One could almost feel the Cheshire grin gracing the dark girl's features.

"Once she stops acting like a child. Harry came to me to ask me to deliver my sister an apology about the Yule Ball. Let's just say that my sister wasn't too happy with either me or Harry when I told her."

Multiple snorts, half snorts and various forms of maimed giggles were heard.

"No surprise there. Harry wasn't exactly a gentleman that night. How would you feel if your date deserted you, then ignored you for months before approaching your sister, a twin no less, to bare you a supposed message of apology..."

"Lisa's got a point there."

"Maybe, but Harry has become much more of a gentleman recently and was very sincere in his apology. Besides, it wasn't like he desperately needed her company at this point. Don't get me wrong. I love my sister dearly, but really, did she think she even had a chance against that veela who was attached to his hip?"

"Oo, sounds like someone's jealous."

"Says the girl who cried out '_Harry, Harry, where art thou Ha…_' eek!" A small shouting/teasing/and presumably, but not definitely so, playful session soon broke out.

After several moments of fun, the girls quieted.

"Seriously, who is going to kiss sleepy beauty."

"I'll do it." A soft accented voice announced, silencing the others. Before anyone could protest, the short girl walked over to the laid down boy and…

"Ooofh!" Harry head shot into the air, wheezing as he felt his side being stung. Instead of kissing him, the short Asian girl had elbowed him in the stomach.

"How did you know?"

"Your breathing pattern changed." Harry looked around to see that none of the girls were surprised leading him to realize that _ALL_ of them somehow knew and had possibly engineered the entire setup! The male veela had to admit that it was a pretty damn good setup too, seeing he hadn't suspect anything was wrong for even a moment. Made him wonder which parts of what they said were real and which parts were made up.

'_Never mind on that. Now for some payback.'_ Harry thought as he smiled deviously. Harry glanced around and saw that he was in a chamber or a safe house of some sort, with a window overlooking Diagon Alley. He guessed that the girls had dragged his unconscious self out of Knockturn Alley.

"So you were observing me?" No one expected the male to recover so fast from his recent embarrassment, at least not Su Li. Caught off guard, the small girl blushed while others giggled at their friend's misfortune. Aren't girls just cruel creatures?

"Gee, Harry, when did you become such a flirt?"

Harry turned his attention on his next victim, ah, target; Padma looked at him challengingly, as if daring him to do his best.

'_Oh, I'm going to have some fun today…' _The Gryffindor thought happily.

"Since I discovered the Ravenclaw common room, of course." Fortunately or unfortunately depending on who was asking, Padma's naturally dark skin hid the extent of her blush.

"Ah, so you weren't just coming back for Fleur?" Harry bit his lips at the loaded question. Best deflect attention away from that.

"I like intelligent witches." The green eyed male winked at the shy Asian girl, sending her into another bright red blush.

"And you must be Su Li." It wasn't hard to figure out. Harry had seen the pretty oriental girl talking to Padma enough times to guess that she was in the same year as the Indian girl. Narrowing her name down the list of possibilities wasn't too hard and the tidbits of conversations he sometimes caught in which Su's name was uttered only confirmed his guess.

Of course, the other girls seemed completely surprised at this rather simple deduction. Again, it was as if no one expected that someone, with a title that must be hyphenated, would bother knowing a foreign commoner, especially one so reserved and demure.

"Su, you never told us you were having secret rendezvous with the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"It's always the quiet ones!"

"…And right under the nose of a Veela and her snotty French friends!" Harry didn't particularly like that statement, but let it go for now.

"…You go girl."

"…Naughty girl!"

"No, lucky girl." Susan corrected, flipping her strawberry blonde hair in a way that eerily resembled what Lavender and Parvati often did. Alas, girls will be girls.

"Aha, you are just jealous!" Her blonde friend corrected.

Harry blinked. Jesus Christ… these girls were nuttier and more perverted than even him when his body was pumping veela hormones!

"Guys, I think we are scaring him."

"Aw, don't be shy Harry. We don't often get the chance to play with a boy." Bewildered at first, Harry managed to grin at Susan in response. To the amazement and appraising glances of the girls, the boy simply refused to blush. They had been sure that he would have crumbled by now. Not only that, this male specimen was perfectly capable of retaliatory fire.

"Did a Hufflepuff just admonish, a Gryffindor, to not be shy?"

"Did a Gryffindor just use the word 'admonish' in the right context of a sentence?" Harry shrugged as he looked at the diverse group of Hogwarts girls before him.

"You know this isn't exactly fair; 6 on 1. Maybe I should do something to even the odds." The male veela sensually batted his eye lashes. While the girls were sent into gales of laughter, several with rather more naughty frame of mind shivered in wonder at the possible meaning. Normally their first reaction would most likely be disgust, followed instinctively a second later by casting a nasty jinx or hex at the speaker if it was male, but not in this case.

"And while I admit our house isn't exactly known, with exception to Hermione, for our great aptitude for learning, I hope you ladies realize that we aren't all as stupid as people think."

"Then it shouldn't be hard for you to realize that we Hufflepuffs aren't pushovers either. Cedric wasn't just an exception."

That was definitely the wrong thing for Susan to say as it wiped the smile straight from Harry's face. The mood of everyone else rapidly plummeted as the playful atmosphere turned cold.

"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry Harry."

"It's alright, Susan." He answered, smiling reassuringly at the nice, kind girl, who looked almost distraught. Harry sighed. At least it was fun while it lasted. He had to admit that he really enjoyed the light and witty exchange of barter. The girls were clearly very intelligent and he found himself wishing to meet up with them again over the summer and for entirely platonic reasons too… for now at least.

"Listen, I'm sorry that you girls had to see that spell and what it did to that werewolf. I didn't mean to but I didn't want to risk your lives by letting it live longer than necessary. I'll understand if you want to turn me in to the aurors."

Not likely. While Harry had no intention of harming any of the girls, neither was he willing to give himself up. Having recuperated, the male veela was fairly sure he can incapacitate and then obliviate the six girls with little trouble.

Cool green eyes looked at the girls, but none of them flinched.

"It's alright, Harry. None of us blame you. Given the disguise you wore, I'm guessing that you don't want to be found. You don't have to tell us anything and we promise to keep _this_ meeting secret. It's the least we could do after you saved Blaise and my life." Susan answered. Though solemn faced, the girls all seemed to have accepted what he did as a matter of necessity. Harry didn't have to think much to realize there was something about these girls. They definitely weren't what he expected, not even close.

"It's alright. I'm just glad to have helped. Besides, you dragged me out of there so I guess we are kind of even." Without giving the girls a chance to protest, Harry asked: "Who were the werewolves by the way?"

"No idea, but I think we were just unlucky and not targeted. Auntie's been talking about a recent rise in random werewolf violence. Her department and the Ministry as a whole has had its hands full trying to bring the agitators in. Problem is, no one knows what's causing them to go feral, even in the day time." Harry packed that thought away. There was something… lurking beneath the surface about this scenario that disturbed him.

"But why were you in Knockturn Alley in the first place?"

The girls exchanged several conspirator looks before Padma looked back at Harry.

"We were all getting our second wands."

"What?" Harry eyes flew open. A second wand was the first one he tried to get, but the infuriating old wand maker refused as soon as he saw that Harry already had one, something about ministry regulations for public welfare or what not.

"It's nice when you have friends in high places." Blaise said as she winked at Susan. Harry gave the smiling black girl a knowing nod.

"How very Slytherin of you. That does beg the question: Why do you all need it?"

All the girls arched an eyebrow at him, as if sizing him up once more and not for the better.

"You wonder even after that speech you gave?"

"Don't take us for fools, Harry. We aren't as helpless you think." The six girls drew their wands as one and dropped into a standard, formal dueling position. Considering they learned the position in their second year and that their stance weren't exact or precise, this little act didn't prove much, but given his initial assessment of the Hogwarts student body Harry was very impressed.

"You ladies have had experience." Harry stated, respect and a tinge of admiration clearly showing in his voice. He noted that the girls seemed to glow ever so slightly in response. _'Interesting…'_

"My aunt is practically the head of the magical police force, Harry and she always believed I should learn to defend myself, especially after what happened to my parents." Tears glistened in the strawberry blonde's eyes as she felt a flash of pain at recalling her past. Before any of her friends could even react, Harry had reached forward to gently squeeze the Hufflepuff's shoulder in reassurance. Susan felt her raging anger dissipate and her soul seeping hurt soften as she gazed into the boy's emerald eyes. She fought hard to resist the almost natural urge to throw herself at him.

"I'm ok, Harry, really." The grateful girl gave Harry a strained, but still glowing smile as she collected herself.

"Because of my aunt's position, Aurors often drop by and occasionally they would teach me spells, tactics and dueling techniques and I share what I learned with my friends." If there were others like them, maybe, just maybe, his idea for a private combat training club just might work.

"I have a thought and I'm wondering if you ladies might be interested."

The girls looked on with interest, urging him to continue. The male veela smiled. _'This just might work.'_

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"Oo…Oo look at this, Lav!" Lavender Brown, blonde queen ditz extraordinaire, giggled as her friend twirled about, displaying the set of ridiculous clothing she was trying on for her friend.

"Oh, wait while I try this one."

"Take your time Parv honey!" Lavender watched as her friend shot back into the change room with an armful of clothing. Sighing, she turned lazily to look out the window. This wasn't how she thought she would be spending her free time every summer as enjoyable Parvati's company was.

Seeing that both her friend and the attendant were busy, Lavender allowed her magic to stretch, flowing around her. As she allowed her senses to stretch further outward, her eyes shot up in shock. Peeling through the glass panels, she sensed a young man chatting with a small group of girls of various colors and hair colors of which her friend's sister was included.

'_Oh, Harry...'_ She was sure that it was Harry Potter even though the man looked nothing like the famed Boy-Who-Lived. Lavender swallowed hard as she saw one and then a second girl give the disguised hero a kiss on the cheek. The blonde turned around and sank into a nearby chair.

"Hey, Lav!" Puzzled by a lack of response, Parvati moved closer towards her friend.

"Lav, are you alright?"

"I'm feeling tired. I should go. Say 'hello' to your sister for me." The Indian girl looked at her strangely but nodded as she kissed her best friend good bye. Lavender didn't bother with formality as she headed straight for the floo, shrugging her friend off almost rudely. The blonde girl was too troubled by recent events to bother with frivolous affairs such as politeness. Besides she could always apologize later if needed but this couldn't wait.

"Brown's Residence."

A stone faced Lavender Brown bounced out of the floo like a woman with a mission. The blonde cast a disdainful, cold look at her 'parents,' the figures who sat motionlessly on the couch in the living room, like inanimate dolls. But then, that was what they were, dolls used to fool the dumb human populace. The young girl turned her attention back towards the fireplace and proceeded to make the secret international firecall.

"Oui, _Aconit Violet_?"

"I have news."

"Oh, that the target is yours?"

"Not exactly. But I saw him today and I sensed him. He is the _one_."

The head in the fireplace looked away, as if she wasn't in the least bit interested in this information.

"If I can win him…" The woman lost it.

"You fool! He's already won by another." The voice bellowed.

"What… but…"

"Indeed, how could have this happened? You are one of the pure ones. You, whose closest competition was a pathetic human witch, failed to not only in winning him, but also in preventing a _miserable_ quarter blood, who was separated from her culture and heritage, from taking him! You are an absolute disgrace to everything we are and strive to be!"

The young girl dropped her head in shame, but the woman wasn't done yet.

"You are being recalled, Lavender. Prepare for immediate extradition within the next 24 hours. A portkey will be sent to you as soon as it is cleared by the English Ministry of Magic. Despite your floundering, you are still one of the purebloods and one of the elites. Your service may yet be required."

Lavender kept her head down until the head disappeared. But as soon as it did, the young girl slumped to the ground afterwards, feeling like an utter failure on the inside and looking like a right mess on the outside. It was a good five minutes before she managed to pull herself together and used a quick flash of her powers to clear up her mired face and reddened eyes.

The stoic teenager walked to the one magically shielded secret cabinet in the house. It contained a single object: A thin, flat faced six-inch long dagger, covered with a coat, featuring a sinister looking violet-purplish coloring . Lavender guessed that whatever her superior was planning, this demonic artifact would most likely be required. The blonde tossed the dagger into the air while flipping her skirt up to reveal a set of toned, lean, creamy thighs with a strange sheath strapped to one of them just below the pelvis. Then, catching the blade as it came down with the other hand, she slipped it into place before covering it with her skirt. A few concealment charms later and Lavender Brown was ready to go.

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**Translation:**

**Percuro** – to heal thoroughly

**Amburo** – to burn

**Extermino** – to set fire to

**Excidibus** **Omnimodis Telum **– Destroy/entirely/missile Roughly a missile that destroys in every way.

**Aconit/monachisme/tue-loup** – Aconite/monkshrood/wolfsbane


	9. Veela Designs

**Rating:** T for depictions of **femme slash** and **blood**-letting.

**Posted: 2/15/2006**

**Beta: Yogert**

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**Chapter 9: Veela Designs**

Aim… concentrate… fire… 50 meters away, an arrow impaled the target dead in the center.

The young archer lowered her longbow and pulled off her headgear, allowing the gentle winds to caress her waist length silvery hair.

"You know, Fleur. That won't help you in a duel." The archer gave her friend an offended glare, but didn't answer. Regine was correct after all. The part-veela was under no illusion about the possible difficulties and physical conflicts that would soon confront the male veela and anyone who supported him. In this regard, Fleur couldn't help but feel somewhat deficient compared to her friend. While a capable dueler in her own rights, the veela was far surpassed by her friend who benefited enormously from her muggle self-defense classes and experience as an exceptional fencer. Indeed, while normally being fairly pacific, Fleur wondered if maybe, just maybe she could use some additional advanced training. At the very least, it would help build stamina for certain vigorous activity…

"Flower? Are you all right? I didn't mean anything by that."

"It's fine, Regine. I was just thinking. Come inside. I finally got them." Fleur noted with cheer, dragging her friend across the expansive field of the Delacour family manor.

They were in front of Fleur's opulent bedchambers, before Regine managed to ask:

"Got what?"

"_Les Bananes_." The veela answered with a cute smile, but Regine knew better. Years of experience as the other girl's best friend and then recent experience as her lover showed the human girl that her veela friend had a mischievous and kinky streak a mile wide. Naturally she was suspicious and subtly concerned.

"Why?"

"Well… you still need practice." The blonde's eyes widened in surprise as her friend manhandled the protesting human girl through the doors.

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Fleur bit her lips, resisting the urge to laugh aloud as her friend choked down another one of their test objects, all the while glaring at her.

"You weren't supposed to swallow it. That's the fifth one!" The veela mocked pointing to the pile of banana peels on the side. The indignant human girl tried to say something along the lines of 'bite me,' but given that she had a mouthful of banana meat in her mouth, jumbled words weren't the only thing that came out.

"Eww… You got it in my hair." Fleur complained. Growling, Regine tackled her veela tormentor and soon the two friends were rolling on the bed, shrieking and laughing playfully. Naturally things heated up soon after. With a cry of triumph, the human girl succeeded in pinning the veela down. Grabbing two handfuls of her friend's silvery locks, she slammed her lips onto her friend's. Fleur moaned as she felt her orifice being ravished while pieces of gooey banana meat and banana scented saliva was being pushed into it. Naturally, the veela lapped it all up like it was honey, enthusiastically frenching her friend back in turn.

"Sissy Fleur, Sissy Regine… why are you kissing each other like that?"

'_Holy Fuck!'_ The two girls pulled back from each other so quickly that Fleur ended up rolling off of the bed, hitting the ground with a thud. The wide-eyed Gabrielle giggled. A cute, soft flush covered the pale child's face, her blue eyes, bright and opened, watching the two older girls half in fascination and half in embarrassment.

"Ahm, Gabrielle…you see…"

"I thought you were with Harry!"

"I am. It's just…"

"So you are already cheating on him! How could you, Fleur!" The thought of her sister being unfaithful to her hero sent the little girl into tears. Unable to form the words to defend herself, Fleur could only watch in aghast as the pint sized veela raged. Regine laughed, naturally finding this highly amusing, until the shrimp sized veela whirled on her.

"And you, sissy Regine, how dare you try to break them up and take my Harry for yourself!" The human girl stopped laughing immediately.

"No, wait, Gabrielle." Too late, Regine dodged violently to the side to avoid the fireball that just missed her head by a hair of an inch.

"Gabrielle, please! Just listen." Fleur pleaded as she dropped to her knees in front of her little sister, holding out her hands for peace. The young girl glared back with tear stained eyes, but dissipated the fireball she was holding. Gabrielle was rather special and unique in how she could use her veela fireball powers without actually transforming. The Delacour matron had asserted that it was a blessing; a sign that Gabrielle would grow up to be a powerful veela. That may be true, but it was also a curse for family and friends, because it meant one might not even see the tall tale sign of an angry bird before one is consumed by fire.

"We… we share Harry, Gabrielle, and each other."

A pair of big azure eyes blinked questioningly back at her.

"You mean like a 'ménage-a-trois'?" Regine chortled on the side, while Fleur grimaced, feeling quite dirty even as the girl asked in a very innocent manner. The young girl took her sister's silence as an affirmative answer.

"Fine, but since you are already sharing Harry, then you can't object to sharing him with me when I'm older. After all, I'm family."

Gabrielle reasoned logically.

"Oh, by the way, mama says there's a special guest who wants to see you in the living room." With a dazzling smile that showed off her roll of white teeth, the young veela cheerfully bounced out of the room, leaving behind two shocked older girls.

"Did little Gabrielle just talk me into sharing Harry with her?"

"Probably, but don't worry, you still have 8 or 9 years to convince Harry not to dump you for your sister." The veela fumed in anger while glaring at her friend, which sent said friend into paroxysm of giggles.

"Oh, lighten up, my flower. It's cute, admit it."

The veela sighed.

"It iz cute! Mais…" Regine cast her friend an inquisitive look. Her jaw dropped when she realized her veela was really, genuinely concerned.

"What are you afraid of? Or are you really jealous of your sister, who is more than 10 years your junior?" Fleur ignored the none-too-subtle barb to get a rouse out of her.

"Gabrielle is a very special veela, Regine. You are practically like a sister to us so you 'know' this as well as I do," The veela rotated her body to face her friend. "…but at the same time, you… you don't share the bond we blood sisters share. There is something about her that's unique."

Memories of the second Tri-wizard task popped into Fleur's mind. She had seen it in her sister's eyes when she woke up and felt it in her heart. In fact, the veela seriously doubted she would have confronted the young wizard champion had it not been for that singular event.

"If Gabrielle truly desires Harry, I… can't stop her."

"She's eight years old!" Regine could not believe that her friend was this distraught.

"A very determined eight year old, who is also veela. Age means nothing to a veela and it won't mean much to Harry once she's past her majority."

Regine grabbed Fleur's shoulders, roughly shaking her as if trying to make her come to her senses.

"I'm appalled, Fleur, if you that's how little you think of Harry." The human girl said, giving her friend a sad, disappointed smile. A loud bang on the door distracted Fleur from responding.

"Come, Fleur, you don't want to keep our guest waiting, do you?" Regine called as she walked out, leaving the veela with only her thoughts for company.

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"Mama?"

"Fleur, Regine! There's someone special who wish to see you." Mme. Delacour stated, looking at the girls with a rather forced smile. Fleur looked inquisitively at her mother before turning to the cloaked figure standing in the middle of the room. "This is _la Comtesse de Noire_, a very important figure in the veela communities here in France."

The girls gasped as the young woman lowered her hood.

'_Mon dieu. Elle est belle.'_ Was the first thought that flashed across both girls' minds. If Regine had superficially felt at least slightly inferior to her friend, then the woman before her completely blew her away. Even Fleur wondered if this was what the ugly duckling felt when it was young and…well ugly. Truly, one could say with absolute objectivity that a full blooded, pure veela epitomized in living, breathing form, all the majesty and magnificence, not to mention the beauty, that a non-deity could ever hope to achieve.

"My lady." Fleur managed to calm her beating heart and curtsied formally. The elder veela smiled. While far from being frivolous, the veela comtesse did enjoy the looks of awe and envy she received whenever she showed her face. The fact that those gawking at her were, in fact, two younger girls, who undoubtedly represented the top crop of what the human wizarding society had to offer, must have made the moment extra sweet.

Alas, not everyone was as easily impressed as impressionable teenagers of ten something years old.

"Thank you, Madame Delacour." She stated in a gracious but also dismissive manner. For a moment, the Delacour matriarch looked like she wanted to protest, but then thought better of purposely antagonizing the veela dignitary. She kissed her daughter and then bid the three femme fatales a quiet goodbye.

"Ms. Delacour. I'll get to the point. I wish to 'speak' to you and your friend about a person who is mutually important to us all."

Suspicion and fear warred within Fleur's heart for dominance, while Regine shot the pure veela a jealous and borderline loathing look. Speaking, in the practical sense wasn't necessary at all it seemed. These were women after all, and women had a way of knowing things without actually needing any words to be exchanged.

It was many minutes before anyone successfully mustered the courage and control to speak civilly.

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**In a heavily warded area in France…**

"The Delacour girl has agreed; reluctantly agreed that is, but agreed nonetheless…" The speaker smiled warily. "I suggest that our contacts with the French Ministry lend whatever help they can to legally facilitate the arrival of our special guest."

Heads turned to the _de jure_ leader of the community. The Veela Matriarch of about 50 years old, but looking at least 20 years younger, remained most hesitant. As a politician, she had often been involved in unpleasant affairs, shook hands with devils and so forth for example, but this…

"Madame?"

"Alright. It'll be done. What about on the other side? This 'boy' is not legally an adult. When the British Ministry realizes that he's gone, they could have the French government brought before the International Council of Wizards, which could implicate…"

"By the time they find out, it will be all over. And the British Ministry will only have a case if our guest is in anyway displeased with his stay here. I can assure you that I have every intention of preventing 'that' from happening." The aristocratic veela grinned rather sinisterly at the row of veela standing at attention. The Veela Matriarch frowned but acquiesced nonetheless.

"I'll take care of it then. Good luck, Comtesse."

"Thank you, madam." The pureblood stated, answering reflexively with a dry and cheerless voice.

The door closed behind the parting Veela Matriarch with a soft click.

"Pussyless half-breed…" If any half-breed veela in the room took offense, they had long since learned to hide it from the iron-fisted veela pureblood.

"May I remind your ladyship that that '_half-breed'_ is still our Matriarch."

The comtesse turned to see a young veela, with pale features and long, pure white hair similar to her own standing by the door.

"Of course, my apology, _princesse_. I merely wished to express my… concerns about our community's safeguard measures."

"The combined Germanic, Slavic and Scandinavian veela enclaves are unified, have established multiple reassurance treaties and can deploy or relocate over 95 of their populations in over half a dozen protected cities in the event of a major conflict. Less than 30 of ours accept our jurisdiction even as we are still in hostile relations with several major non-human groups." Derision laced the veela's impassioned words.

"Why the Matriarch put such undying faith in human laws when _we are not even human_ I will never know. But what I do know is that our 'rights' are entirely provisionary and not constitutionally defined. A single simple majority vote by the conservative _Parlement _(1) could reverse everything we have gained in the last fifty years. This is the kind of security the vampires in Britain depended on and look at what happened to them. This isn't just ill-advised policy, this is downright stupidity, stupidity that will invite aggression and geno—"

"Enough! I think you have been told before. That's not for you to decide, comtesse ." Was the cool reply. The young veela momentarily affected a particularly cold and dangerous image, one quite reminiscent of a veteran politician engaging in brinksmanship. On a girl that appeared to be under 20 years of age, that image looked quite out of place.

The pureblood aristocrat swallowed, hard, presumably ingesting whatever else she was planning to say to the person who came to the defense of the esteemed Matriarch.

"Won't matter soon anyways." She muttered under her breath, but not quiet enough as the silence of the room carried it to the ears of everyone in the room. "Is there something I can help you with, your highness?"

"Don't mind me, comtesse. Just thought I should drop by and see how everything is; given how important your operation is to us all. Carry on."

"Of course." The pureblood aristocrat answered, turning her back on the young royalty. And for the next thirty minutes, she outlined details to the half a dozen veela attentively arrayed before her.

"What about his girls?"

"What about them?" Comtesse de Noire stated, turning to give the questioner an annoyed look.

"What if he brings them?" The pureblood veela princess pressed on, drawing a sickening sweet smile from the older veela.

"I'm counting on that."

"They could complicate your plan."

"… Or they could help facilitate it. I'm not a fool, your highness. Rest assured that they, should they appear will be _dealt_ with." The observing royalty frowned at the ambiguous response but didn't ask any more questions, which was just fine to the lecturing veela as she made her final remarks.

"… three words: Quick, clean and simple."

"You underestimate him, my lady." The other veela in the room tensed at the audacity of this underling. True, she was an important if not crucial underling and a pureblood to boot, but an underling nevertheless.

The comtesse was definitely not pleased at being interrupted. She cast the princess a look before glaring at her subordinate.

"And you severely underestimate the abilities of your peers. Just because you failed…"

The veela, who formerly passed off as Lavender Brown fumed with anger. The only reason she had failed was because she had been specifically ordered to maintain complete secrecy and keep her distance until the target had reached his majority so as to minimize possible legal complications. The rationale was that a pureblood veela could easily ensnare a young human male no matter what, thereby negating the need for a long-term relationship to develop prior to bonding. It was a marriage contract of sort: one in which the prestige and potential influence of the young wizarding hero would be wedded to the beauty, grace and interests of the veela. In exchange for having an angel as a bedmate, his ears would be forever open to the words of said angel. The plan was simple; the plan was clever; and the plan was utterly ruthless.

Naturally no one anticipated two problems to occur: One, that the young Wizarding Hero would end up being a legendary male veela; and two, that an inexperienced offspring of a rogue veela would have gotten to him first.

"I followed my orders to the letter! I crafted myself into the perfect image of a frivolous, outgoing and easy human blonde so that I would be open to him when the time came, yet he never even looked at me. Even the Delacour girl's veela aura barely affected him, and this was all before he became the '_one_'."

"Your point being? So what if he managed to overcome this Delacour girl. She had a fraction of the potential any one of us have. You are trying to compare 'us' to a traitor's offspring, who happens to be a quarter blood and thinks her power is little more than a natural cosmetic fragrance." The comtesse's face twisted into a haughty sneer.

"I saw him throw off the Imperius Curse cast by a fully trained adult wizard like it was nothing!"

Now this definitely took the other veela by surprise. The speaker pressed forward.

"He is unlike any human I know and he won't be like any of the male veela of the past! In using Thanatos's power level as the sole rubric for judging our target's potency, we set ourselves up for catastrophic failure."

"Which is why there are seven of us! And as we all know, the Imperius curse is child play compared to our compulsion aura."

The formerly disguised veela kept her tongue in check. Of course, she could be exaggerating her concerns, for indeed, the plan seemed almost airtight on paper. There were seven, SEVEN fully boasted and augmented veela, including two purebloods. The sheer volume of the female estrogen produced would have been enough to put even Thanatos, arguably one of the most virile male veela ever, out. Surely, Harry Potter stood no chance against all seven of them.

The comtesse growled, clearly tired of her subordinate's pessimism especially given such favorable circumstances. "Rationalize your failure if you must, but you will NOT depress the morale of everyone else with your defeatist attitude!"

"Do you have any idea as to how long it has been since a male veela has walked the Earth? A thousand years… a thousand years since the last one left us. Have no doubt about it. We have to do this. For our _ancestors_, for _ourselves_, for our _posterities_…" The comtesse punctuated each word for emphasis, looking at everyone in the room before settling on the eyes of the young 'princess'.

She then turned to the only other pureblood veela on the seven-veela team.

"Now, your presence is neither required, nor at this point, desired. Do not make it intolerable as well because then, I will have no choice but to have you replaced! So, are you with us, _mon petit_ _Aconit_?"

Under the expectant gazes of her compatriots, the aptly named beautiful and deadly flower looked at the white-haired veela princess and then at her superior.

"I am." She stated coolly and without hesitation.

The veela leader smiled, temporarily satisfied with her subordinate.

"Good. Then let us continue."

The veela comtesse whipped out a thin blade and made a small cut on her wrist. A small red dot formed around the point of penetration, but that wasn't enough. The blade dug in deeper and the red dot soon became a red blot that kept expanding. Oozing liquid trailed down both sides of her arm, superimposing the image of a red ring upon the veela's flawless alabaster skin, before collecting at the underside of her wrist.

Drip, drip, drip-drip…

Droplets of blood splashed on the table with increasing frequency until a small puddle had formed. The bleeding veela frowned as if realizing that she had made the wound one size too big. But rather than healing herself, she merely clenched her fist. There were faint traces of muscle contractions within her lower arm as the leakage gradually slowed to a dribble.

She cast a significant and half sneering look around the room. None of the other veela reacted visibly, but none missed its meaning either. Not only was she the plan's chief architect and top advocator; not only was she the most senior in ranking; now, she was also the first one to shed blood as well. Comtesse de Noire was formally claiming her place as the 'first' within this little group of seven and dared anyone to challenger that claim.

The inhuman female allowed herself a self-satisfied smile when none was forthcoming.

"_Aconit_…"

The veela didn't hesitate as she cut her wrist like her elder had done. Without the need for further prodding or orders, each of the other five veela silently followed suit in committing the same gruesome action.

The entire process was rather beautiful… in a fantastical and horrific sort of way, like one of those bloody sacrificial rituals of old. It definitely looked the part as the small table soon became clogged with droplets and puddles of the precious bodily fluids of veela. Not for long.

A conjured bowl appeared in the center. As one, the seven veela turned their wounded arms upside down and raised them forward, so that each of the seven bloodied appendages was squeezed between adjacent limbs. No sound was made when flesh met flesh; no shout was uttered when open wound touched open wound; and no cry was emitted as blood mixed freely, collecting, first, at the tip of the elbows and then in the bowl bellow. The veela looked on with stoic calmness as the intermittent droplets turned into steady streams, then to a torrent...

"That's good."

If not for the very slight edge in the comtesse's voice, an outside observer of this scene might have been tempted to make the astonishing assumption that Veela did not actually require any blood to function normally. These veela's steadfastness and the natural paleness of their skin had meant that it was virtually impossible to physically gauge the effect of the substantial blood loss.

The blood flows gradually slowed to trickles, then to droplets before cutting off completely, leaving on the table a bowl of swirling red liquid.

"The blade." The haughty veela took the purple dagger by the handle without even glancing at who had offered it and plunged its length into the bowl. The blood that came in contact with the colorful blade immediately darkened while the blade gradually took on a bleak, sinister shade of coloring as well.

… The blackness of the liquid met the darkness of the blade,

… At first, they battled one another,

… Then they merged with one another so that one would be hard pressed to tell the two apart,

…. Finally they merged into each other so that former was in fact being absorbed into the latter!

If any of the females present found the concept of an inanimate object sucking her mutated blood into itself disturbing, she hid her disgust well. Slowly, but inevitably, the level of the liquid in the bowl gradually fell until the tainted blood was all gone.

The comtesse held the black blade up in the air, rotating it in the light, as if examining it. Even as the dagger literally pulsed with the energy of an unmistakable dark aura and pulsed with increasing strength and volatility, none of the veela present seemed concerned. In fact, all they did was shield their eyes an instant before the room was bathed in an explosion of white light.

When the light dissipated, the jagged dagger had returned to its original purple color. The bleak darkness that surrounded it had vanished without a trace as had all evidence of the gruesome affair that took place: the table was spotless; the deep flesh wounds on the girls' arms were completely healed; and the blood streaks that crisscrossed the lower arms of the veela had also disappeared leaving behind unblemished and flawless white skin.

Minutes later, after dismissal and after curtsying to the royal princess at the door, the five silvery haired veela, their masks once more in place, happily bounced out of the room, flooding the hallways with cheerful barter. With their long blonde hair flying and looking heart-wrenchingly gorgeous even while being casual, it is little wonder that the world continue to shower them with such high acclaim. Truly, do the veela not epitomize the effervescence of spirit, purity of form and beauty of angels? Truly, are they not the most wondrous, lovely, and of course for half of the human magical population, the most desirable creatures in the mortal realm?

Perhaps, but perhaps that's not all they are…

The veela comtesse allowed herself a rare genuine smile of contentment while being in the presence of the other two pure veela. Handing the purple blade back to its rightful owner and intoned with a note of finality towards the royal guest observer:

"_C'est fini_."

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**Translation:**

**La Comtesse** – The Countess

**Mon dieu. Elle est belle.** – My god. She is beautiful.

**La Princesse** – The Princess

**Mon petit** **Aconit **– my little aconite (essentially my little poisonous flower)

**C'est fini** – It's finished

(1) Yes, it's _'parlement'_ not _'parliament'_. I did spell it correctly. In France under the _ancien regime_, the _parlements_, of which the _parlement of Paris_ (or Parlement with capital 'P') was the largest and most powerful, were in theory a non-legislative judiciary bodies, which gradually took on de-facto legislative powers. Naturally I tweaked it to fit in my story but you get a rough idea.


	10. Mystery of the Veela

**Rating:** M for **smut/lemon**, but again it is cut out from non-NC17 sites.

**Posted: 2/20/2006**

**Beta: Yogert**

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**Chapter 10: Mystery of the Veela**

The young man flipped the page in Thanatos's diary.

"**_Freedom…" _**How he had dreamed of it as he laid, cold and hungry, within the confines of his 'room'… How he had relished it when he was led into the brave new world… and how angry and despairing he was when he first wondered if his newfound freedom was all a lie.

'_How much did Dumbledore know if he always had agents around? If so then why didn't he ever check on him? Why do he still trust these despised muggles to…'_ Harry closed his eyes to exorcize the chaotic emotions. Now wasn't the time for him to chase inner demons.

"**_Power…"_** The word sparked a shiver down the boy's back; it was a shiver of anticipation, of understanding, of reluctant acquiescence.

What was it that the muggles said? _'Might makes right…'_ Harry thought darkly.

What was it that Voldemort said? _'There is only power and those too weak to seek it.'_

He, the Dark Lord, wasn't wrong, now was he? Surely power would not be handed to a person on a silver platter. He would have to work for it. Harry once more resisted the urge to rage against Dumbledore. Did he seriously believe they could possibly win without more training, more people and more aggression? Did he seriously expect some nebulous abstract concept like love to withstand the raw might of the magical arts?

'_I was such a fool.'_ Indeed he had, but no longer…

"…**_No two words better characterize what it means to be 'l'homme débonnaire', as the French called the male veela. To be one is to have the implicit blessing of the powers that be, to be the necessary peak of all mortal creations, to be the shining star amongst a sea of mediocrity… the existence of what can be best characterized as a harem – that is a closed group of personal female attachés - is therefore a natural outgrowth…" _**

"**_Yet, it is also more than that. Either by divine decree or by sheer luck, no two matured male veela is believed to have ever co-existed at one time. It is my sincere opinion that the former is the case as, I hope that the fate of the world rest not on the carefree and arbitrary hands of fortune. After all, the simultaneous existence of two male veela - two absolute Alpha dominators - would have no value but to bring about the apocalypse for the mortals around them. The power of the male veela is truly staggering and his fury, demonic given form…" _**

"**_Indeed, the male veela is naturally a chaotic creature of terrifying and boundless passions. These passions are magnitudes greater than what even he can possibly hope to contain unassisted. Without the stable environment that only a permanent harem could provide, the male veela will be forced to devote the majority of his existence seeking relief least he be driven insane by the nature of his very being. In this regard, the male veela's need for multiple females in the realm of physical, but also in the realm of mental companionships, is an undeniable and biological imperative."_**

Harry rolled his eyes, suppressing a small chuckle. Smart as this Thanatos guy was, this guy really was a bit over the top at times, _'biological imperative!'_ But then, Thanatos was supposedly French, or rather Frankish, as this was the middle ages. And truthfully, Harry no longer found the harem concept as disagreeable as he once did. The male veela read on as the text pinned down, blow-by-blow, the intricacies and dynamics of a 'good' harem in the next dozen or so pages.

The weary male veela kneaded his forehead in disbelief as he took in the long list of racially compatible females. His eyes scanned the list: Dryads, nymphs, werewolves, vampires, elder elves – all subclasses, all thirteen represented sub-races of both the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, draconian humanoids, serpentine arthropods, and avian progenitors… pretty much the only limiting specification was very basic anatomical compatibility. It even listed…

'Bloody hell? Demons! Don't they have a vamp-like fixation on blood?' Harry splattered with shock until he came across a particularly interesting paragraph about one type of demon, or rather demoness.

"**_Of all the creatures of the netherworld, the succubus, most deserve at least passing mention in this text. Though there exists no proof for this, it is almost assured that no female species in all the realms come as close as the succubus does in matching the raw sexual potential of the male veela…" _**

"**_There is, then, but one major problem. That is that few mortals have ever lived to tell about their encounter with one of these blood and flesh lusting 'handmaidens of the fiendish one'… And indeed, for all intents and purposes, the succubus, like all the dwellers of the underworld, is merely a creature of speculative interest, rather than a serious choice for consideration."_**

Harry frowned. He had to admit the passage made him very curious and then to end it so abruptly... nevertheless, the young man pushed onwards.

"… **_So based on the empirical data gleamed from history, the most appropriate, logical and realistic choice for the position of Alpha (defined and covered in chapter 7, page 137) within the male veela's harem seems unsurprisingly to be a female veela…"_**

'_At least he got that right.'_ Harry thought. True, it was hardly official and he _'only'_ had two females in his budding harem. But, it was pretty clear to him that for a variety of reasons, Fleur was the one.

"… **_a pureblooded veela being the preferred choice, but any other type of veela would most likely do almost as well. It is, however, highly advised that at least one full veela is added to the harem if for nothing else but to enhance the stability of the intra-harem structure and the mental bonds of the female members." _**

"… **_There are also additional peculiarities about a near pure female veela's blood. First, it displays high healing and regenerative properties that are superior to Phoenix tears. Yet this is somehow unknown to the Wizarding world at large. The second peculiarity relates to the blood of a male veela. See, the properties of the excretions of most other creatures, whether good or bad, break down immediately upon contact with the male veela's volatile blood stream. This is believed to be a defense mechanism designed to make the male veela immune to even the deadliest of poisons, i.e. Basilisk venom. At the same time, this defense also negates the healing properties of something like phoenix tears, presumably on the assumption that such agents would never be needed."_**

'_That seems to balance out.'_ Harry nodded in thought.

"**_Yet, the blood of at least a half breed female veela could interact in almost perfect harmony with the blood of a male veela. On the one hand, this seems to indicate that with a pureblood nearby, a male veela would have a ready supply to healing… _**

"… **_but on the other, that same pureblood represents an absolute security risk for the male veela, for she alone through her blood can bypass his innate defenses. Blood is very important to a male veela. It is doubly important when the blood of a female veela is in question. Be ever vigilant of your thralls, young one. Don't assume their loyalty as a given."_**

The young man blinked. '_So he's paranoid as well.'_ But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, was it? Better paranoid than dead, right?

"… **_of course, pure veela also possess other fine skills, especially the more commonly alluded to ones, which account for why their presence is universally well received by males throughout history."_**

'_Gee, I wonder why.'_ The male veela's bland sarcasm turned to curiosity and then to awe as he beheld the caricature of the pure veela on the paper before him. Long, waist length, pure and white as snow hair fell in waves past her shoulders and glided in the wind like fine silk; while the flowing robes, though completely decent by all normal standards, seem entirely inappropriate in covering the beauty portrayed on the page. Even in 2D form, the veela represented an anomaly; where the innocent, freshness and lithe form found in youthful girls and the luscious curves and aura of sexuality found in mature women, seemingly existed in perfect, non-contradicting, harmony with one another.

Harry shook his head to chase away his wondering thoughts. Needless to say, Fleur would probably have not been a happy camper had she been present to witness her mate's reaction. But then, she wasn't entirely human, so maybe she wouldn't have been jealous. Harry shook his head again. Women of one race was enough, merlin knows how he was going to deal with females from different species.

'_Gee, and a succubus was suppose to surpass even this?'_

"… **_It is of no coincidence or of great error that the name, 'male veela', is partially derived from the females who hold the same name. For they too feel the call of power and freedom. They too treasure and valorize these qualities…" _**

"**_Thus, might not a blessed male veela assume that these female veela are therefore one self's natural companions? Do not be this fool. Aforementioned characteristics aside, we are as different from the females who share our designation as the legendary Imperial Black Dragons are from Common Welsh Greens. Both are called dragons but the latter could hardly stand in objective comparison to the former. I do not mean to be disparaging with this remark, as my own Alpha of many moons is a full blooded veela, but it is the truth. Our destiny, our rule and our duties extend far beyond the boundaries of veela interests, but they would have us believe otherwise…"_**

Harry felt the chills running across the back of his neck as he read the next passage.

"**_There is something very strange at the heart of all this. I do not know what it is but I do know it is there. Why is it that the veela, despite their numerical disparity have always taken such prominent roles in the affairs of all the male veela in history? Who gave us the title 'male veela' when we can not be defined racially in an objective sense? How is it that all of my last twenty or so predecessors chose like I did a veela to be his alpha? I find it strange that all of us should be so uniform in our choices in selecting our alpha, no matter how exceptional and superior the veela seem to be compared to the other races…"_**

"**_Why is it that the Veela race came to be the guardians of such sensitive history, history which no other is privy to? Is it a coincidence that my meticulous studies of the past merely reaffirm everything the veela have told me?" _**

"… **_Why is it that peaceful unicorns flee from the presence of even the youngest of veela chicks? While their darker and more bellicose counterparts, the war unicorns, cluster tightly around my veela Alpha of many years. Something is amiss…" _**

Harry frowned. Thanatos talked of the veela, the most beautiful of all humanoid species, as if it was a sinister plot to ensnare everyone.

'_Could be sexism.'_ He reasoned, given that this was the middle of the middle ages. But that seemed unlike the learnt scholar Harry knew Thanatos to be. He quickly flipped through the next several pages.

"**_Note that despite what it seems, I'm also firm believer in the need for restraints where necessary. But in the case of the male veela, these restraints should be internal. Self-discipline should be judiciously applied, but never, ever should they be the result of foreign pressures. This is a matter of facts, not opinions. I can assure you that the very spirit and soul of the male veela could not and would not tolerate such aberrations…" _**

"… **_Be wary of potential foes, but be extra vigilant of allies, friends and even bonded lovers. The former can but harm or at best slay you; the latter can, willingly or not, enslave you to fates worse than death." _**

Feeling rather queasy about what he had read, the young man decided that perhaps a change of the sceneries would help. Harry grabbed his wand and disappeared into the book, intent on losing himself while he practiced.

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Harry succeeded, more or less. He was completely oblivious to other thoughts as he concentrated on his training. Twirling his wand high overhead, he slid to the side smoothly. Arcing it in a downward slicing movement, the sweating young man imagined blowing apart his shadow opponent with a fragmentary curse. For the better part of at least an hour, he moved, jumped, slid, intermixing jabs and kicks, blocks and parries with quick wand work on both hands in the blackness of space.

**_Magical katas_** was what Thanatos had called them. Apparently, the former male veela had cleaved the basics from several eastern mages during his travels, but then developed it over the course of decades. To Harry, it had seemed at first a somewhat jumbled amalgam of muggle fitness and martial arts routines adopted for magic. But it gradually started to make more sense as the principles of the fighting methods started to seep in: such as when to use a shield and how strong that shield should be; when to dodge or roll; when and where to strike and with what kind of curse; and what kind of sequence of attacks and blocks to employ under so and so circumstance and etc…

The battle with those supped up werewolf puppies was a harsh lesson for the male veela; one which showed that knowledge and raw power, no matter how great or broad, were hardly everything in combat. Clearly he had the power as demonstrated by his coup de grace finishing move. Clearly he had the skill as demonstrated by his quick footwork in protecting the girls and avoiding most of the brutes' attacks. But equally clear was that he was a complete greenie! Those were werewolves and yet not once did he think about using silver against them.

'_Stupid, stupid, stupid…'_ yet it couldn't be helped. Harry sighed in frustration.

There was ultimately no substitute for real battles. Even Thanatos, himself, noted this. But Harry also realized he could make sure that he was as prepared as possible and equipped with the right frame of mind for subsequent battles. He rightly noted that the physical part of the martial magical arts helped train his body to instinctively recognize and record the fluid movements needed for proficiency on the battlefield, while their principles helped shape at least a basic understanding of the tactics that could be employed on the field.

'… _And I really could use another wand.'_ Another major point Thanatos had advocated. Well, actually the former male veela had first advocated complete mastery of wandless magic to entirely cure one's dependence on magical artifacts such as a wand, but as Harry wasn't quite up to that point, a second wand seemed the best route to take. Plus, the diary contained a fountain of information on particularly innovative tactics which integrated dual wand wielding, silent casting and wandless magic.

With a small smile, Harry wondered if he could convince Susan to ask her aunt to pull some strings for him given Ollivander's present intransigence to selling a second wand to non-ministry approved personnel.

"Ah!" His mind momentarily distracted, Harry stumbled and collapsed onto the dank, dark floor. The tired male veela dropped out of the pseudo virtual reality Thanatos's Diary provided for him and slumped on his bed.

'_Wow, didn't think it could be that exhausting.'_ The young man thought while panting and gasping. Clearly Thanatos wasn't kidding when he said he tried to create as realistic a world within his diary for his successor to study and practice. Harry was most thankful for this, or else he would be hard pressed to find a place to train and test the skills and abilities he supposedly has access to.

Picking his sweaty and sticky self off of the bed, Harry gingerly examined himself. The rituals he completed in the secret sanctuary of his room had done a wonderful job of reorganizing his metabolic systems, enhancing his overall magic prowess as well as allowing for easier access to his expansive magic reserves.

Harry lazily put on his glasses. Bad eye sight was a definite no-no in combat and the male veela was very glad the rituals took care of his eye problem. That said, there was no reason why he shouldn't allow his enemies to underestimate him.

Of course, another physical, but much more self-indulgent effect was the slight but distinctively noticeable change in his physique: A few inches added to his rather modest height, a couple of pounds added to his previously thin frame, and a general sharpening of his facial features rounded him off quite nicely. Harry Potter affected very much so the lithe, slightly dark and mysterious, but also 'fuck with me and die' kind of presence of being.

Combined with his newfound sense of confidence, the resident Wizard had become the ultimate chick magnet in Surrey. His premier entrance at one of the neighborhood teen parties resulted in him being ensconced by a bevy of young dames. The experiences after that, however, have been so far underwhelming to say the least.

The first time, which was at the same party, Harry had been quite pleased and more than a little surprised (since he didn't have his aura charm turned on at the time) when one of the supposedly popular girls managed to corner him for some one-on-one time. In fact, he was so giddy and excited about his first time with a muggle girl, that he over-stimulated his partner and knocked her out just before they got to the main event. Of course, he could have continued with her unconscious form and while he seriously doubt that the girl would have minded, it just didn't seem right. So, Harry let the stone dead and satiated girl sleep, vowing to be extra careful next time. He definitely didn't want to be constantly left with the irritating and painful problem of being stiff.

Of course, a let-down the first time was hardly enough to put a dent his libido, so he tried again…

**-----LEMON WARNING-----**

Text Cut

**-----END LEMON-----**

Ok, so the second time with a muggle girl was better than the first, but not by much. That was partially because compared to Fleur, or even Regine, the girl simply sucked at…well, surely that needn't be said. That, of course, really _is_ no fault other than Harry's own. His time with the two older French lovers had simply spoiled him for the majority of other girls. Besides, to the poor girl's credit, she did try very hard as evidenced by how sore her jaws became. And ever the generous lover, Harry did amply reward her for her efforts. Still, as he left a second muggle girl curled up beside him, the male veela's desire for further explorations had been significantly reduced… for the time being at least.

Hedwig hooted from inside her cage.

"Sorry girl. Until I find a way to get past Dumbledore's ward, you won't be able to deliver any messages." Several rapid hoots answered him, causing Harry to chuckle.

"Yeah, I hate him too, girl. Say, would you like some fresh air?" The snow white owl bounced in affirmation. Harry waved his hand and the cage popped open, freeing the creature from its confinement. The boy smiled as he watched as his companion disappear out the window.

It was by a small stroke of genius that he found the shielding ward he was currently using to block the Ministry from detecting magic within the house. Small, discrete and sublime, it was also attached to Dumbledore's original ward. No one, but the original caster or possibly a very experienced curse breaker, would possibly notice and even then only if they were scanning for discrepancies in the ward locally. The latter is most unlikely and the former… please. The old man didn't bother to check on him in well over a decade. Harry had no reason believe he would start now. The male veela was about to doze off when Hedwig came in from the windows, flying at top speed.

Harry jumped up in surprise, however, as a second winged bird, materialized in the middle of the room. _'What the bloody fuck?'_ Hedwig hooted excitedly until Harry motioned her to stop.

One look at the Île-de-France imprinted on the blue cloth draped over the bird told him who it was from. The young man smiled. How the girls managed to get access to an official French ministry messenger Falcon, AKA the '_mail anywhere carrier_', was beyond him. They were rumored to be the fastest, stealthiest and most secure messengers in the world, with incredible range, capable of bypassing almost all anti-OWL wards and bolstered a legendary in-flight invisibility charm that guarded against unwanted en route detection. No wonder, these falcons were the official messengers of not only the French Ministry, but also of the International Confederation of Wizards.

'_So that's why Hedwig was so eager to get out. She somehow sensed him.' _Harry thought in genuine amazement.

"Good girl." The owl hooted happily at her 'companion's' praise. Quite humorous how he could call another human being his, but merlin have mercy on him should it be suggested that he was this owl's master.

Harry took the letter from the falcon and popped open the seal, only to look on in confusion at the jumble of messy writing, written in neither English nor French. Realization quickly dawned upon him, however, and Harry smacked his forehead.

"**_Denudo!_**" A small text box appeared at the top of the letter.

'_A password?'_ Harry tapped it once, as the words 'male veela' were spelled in it. Nothing happened even as the words disappeared. He tried again, this time with the word 'master'. Still nothing. The male veela frowned in puzzlement.

'_Of course…'_ Harry inputted the nine letters making up the three words and watched in satisfaction as the squabbling marks rearranged itself into cohesive lines and sentences.

**_Dear Harry: _**

_**How are you, our beloved? It's been only weeks, but we miss you dearly and **_

**_already, we yearn for you… _**

He smiled at the cheesy flowery cursively written words that greeted him.

… **_we also yearn for your cock. Fleur's also being mean…_**

Harry laughed out loud at the change in handwriting, shaking his head in mirth and smiling as he read on. But that smile, however, eventually dropped away as the point of the letter became very clear.

… **_another veela, a pureblood, came to me, talking about you… She somehow knew. _**

The male veela felt his inside turn cold. He read Fleur's handwriting twice more times just to be sure.

… **_She said that it was imperative that they, the veela community, meet you, here in France as soon as possible. Regine didn't trust her and neither do I, even if she is one of my kind. But… she has mentioned other important things; things that should not be discussed in letters. We, Regine and I, do not presume to demand anything of you, Harry, for we are yours. But if you can, please write back about when you would be available for a few days. Please… The veela said arrangements will be made on this end. _**

**_Know that we love you. Until then. _**

**_with hugs and kisses,_**

**_Fleur and Regine_**

Harry folded the letter neatly, laid it on the table and gazed at it in silence. The male veela seriously considered reevaluating what Thanatos had said. There was indeed _'something very strange'_ going on. How could a veela in France have possibly known the happenings in England when no one else in England knew?

'_A spy in Hogwarts.'_ Sounded outlandish, but what else could it be, then? Harry racked his mind for more ideas, but none were forthcoming. Not like that mattered, it sounded like Fleur needed him, so merlin forbid anyone stand in his way.

"Can you stay while I compose a letter?" He asked of the falcon, which nodded before flying up to Hedwig cage. The owl seemed so impressed by the other bird that she didn't even complain as he drank the water from her bowl.

Harry, meanwhile, turned his attention to penning the letter at hand.

**_Mes Chéries:_**

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**Translation:**

**Denudo** – to lay bare, to reveal

**Mes Chéries** – my dears

**Trivia! **Can you figure out the three words (nine letters in total) Harry used to decode the content of the letter?

--Hint-- The three words have been stated in dialogue as a phrase in its entirety at least three times in previous chapters! Have fun. (Get it? 3 words, 3x3 as in 9 letters in total, said at least 3x in the story!)


	11. Le Bastion des Veela

**Posted: 3/30/2006**

**Beta: Yogert**

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**Chapter 11: Le Bastion des Veela**

Vivid emerald eyes cautiously swept across the vast expanses of thick forest bushes. The young man breathed deeply and gasped in surprise. Harry Potter was a simple city boy, and as such he was taken quite off guard by the simple but most pleasurable freshness of the gentle air, helped facilitated by the presence of the hundred feet tall trees all around him.

It had been an eventful day for the young man. After using the special French portkey Fleur had sent him, Harry arrived at the edge of a dense forest, overjoyed to find his girlfriend along with several curiously masked and cloaked figures. The initial joy and delight he felt, however, quickly gave way to darker emotions when Fleur explained the nature of his visits. Apparently Regine was already at a nearby hidden veela city, where the French veela who had approached Fleur was waiting for him.

Harry was not pleased when Fleur stated in rather clinical terms that he would be bedding seven of her fellow veela. In retrospect, had he been more level-headed, Harry might have noticed that Fleur's words were a reflection of her own uncertainty and, dare he say it, intense jealousy. As it was, however, the male veela was focused on the manner in which the quarter veela made her 'demand' known to him. His response left the older girl almost in tears…

Harry sighed.

"Where are we?" He asked, turning to his companion. Harry's inside churned at the thought of meeting these unknown veela.

"I zink ve are somewere inside the Ardennes Forest in northeastern France." A small voice offered. It was spoken so softly that Harry almost missed it. The young man chanced a glance at his exotic French lover, and almost winced at her very slight but very distinct (to him) sullen expression.

'_Great job, Harry old pal. What a great boyfriend you were back there. A month gone and you give the supposed love of your life a tongue lashing of a lifetime'_ The haunting voice of his conscious echoed within Harry's heart, causing his stomach to twist in a most uncomfortable manner.

In retrospect, it wasn't even bad news, was it? To copulate with what was it… six, seven veela, not counting Fleur… at the same time too? Most males could barely even dream about being with one veela, and here he was, hours from being with more than he could possibly have imagined.

'_So, why the bloody hell did I yell at Fleur?'_ After all, there was no reason for him to have blown a casket at Fleur, right? Especially when Fleur, though clearly not pleased with the idea of sharing Harry with over half a dozen of her own veela brethren, also showed no sign of opposition. Alas, one of the cons of being super intuitive was that one couldn't delude oneself.

The male veela sighed once again.

He had been very angry, but it was at himself, not Fleur. And anger most certainly was not the first emotion he felt when Fleur propositioned the idea. No, it was lust; pure unbridled lust. Harry later had to flip back through his memories to make sure he wasn't drooling that first instant when the thought of being surrounded by mountains of veela flesh entered his mind. Even so, he vividly recalled how his eyes glazed over momentarily as he wondered how wonderful it must feel to have so many soft, warm, willing bodies pressed against him… and how fiercely he growled when he forcibly chased away the tainted images.

All along his trip across the English Channel, he had thought of how to shower his French lover with his undying devotion, to show that none of the few muggle girls he had been with could compare to her, and to a lesser extent (if he was being truthful) Regine. But what was the first thing he does when he meet her? Why, drool over some random girls, whom he never met before, of course. He had been rightfully angry with himself, for being in that one moment exactly what he always wanted to be: a blasted normal teenage male. And to top it all off, he took out that anger on Fleur.

'_How much more of an ass can I be?'_ Thought the male veela in self loathe.

"Fleur…" Began Harry. But as Fleur pair of shining azure eyes locked onto his own emerald ones, he hesitated, feeling his resolve fleeing him.

"Miss Delacour, Mr. Potter. This way please." One of the cloaked escorts called out in a soft and melodious but at the same firm voice.

The male veela turned to look at one of the 'escorts'. Clad in long flowing dark battle robes and covered with a thick shroud that completely obscured their faces, Harry had at first mistaken them to be Death Eaters given the similarity of their clothing.

Closer examination revealed several discrepancies. First, where as the presence of the white masked DEs naturally inspired fear and hate, these figures in their dark purple battle robes just exuded a sense of, well… imperial authority, for the lack of a better phrase. Two, all of them were rather small in stature with no one being larger or taller than Harry, himself. From what he could recall, there were quite a few DEs roughly Goyle and Crabble Sr. in size at Voldemort's rebirth. And three and this could just be him, but Harry just knew these people were way too slim and curvy to be all male. While the robes didn't exactly cling against their bodies like leotard suits, they did show enough to tell Harry they were female. And to top it off Harry had caught flicks of fine silvery blonde hair on the peripheral of his vision making it clear who these escorts were.

Now, Harry could hardly be termed a sexist, but he had been nurtured in a particular setting where particular views on what particular roles particular peoples in society had prevailed. As such, the sight of a dozen cloaked petite veela, armed with the cloak and dagger persona didn't really jive with what he knew.

Harry cleared his thoughts in an attempt to regain his bearing again, but by then Fleur had moved in the direction the lead cloaked figure had instructed. Out of his element so far as the female mind is concerned, Harry at last decided to silently follow his lover and their veela escorts deeper into the forest. Surely he would have time to apologize later, wouldn't he? Nevertheless, Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt at being shafted for the first time by his love since that fateful night in the infirmary at Hogwarts.

After ten minutes of trekking, the Englishman noticed the trees that spurt up like overhanging appendages to only thicken in numbers. Most curious since Harry thought, based on the veela's portrayal, that their home was more like a muggle city of sorts, with expansive open fields, sophisticated constructions and grand residences. Just as he was about to voice his confusion, their guides stopped.

"We are here, mademoiselle, monsieur."

Harry blinked in response, looking rather bewilderedly at the massive tree trunks all around him. _'Was this a joke? There's nothing here…'_ The young man was about to voice his befuddlement when something caught on the edge of his senses gave him pause. Something was decidedly off…

The male veela closed his eyes, took in a deep gulp of air – just as he had done earlier - only to gasp in surprise.

"These trees aren't real, are they?" Of course, they sounded and felt real when Harry struck them, but he knew otherwise. Turning to the veela escorts, he could almost make out the small smiles of appreciation being bestowed upon him. Even Fleur had a trace of something akin to knowing pride as she looked at their veela escort leader. The cloaked figure didn't respond immediately, but then no explanation was really necessary when the forest in front of them suddenly disappeared.

"May I have the honor of welcoming you to _Le Bastion_, the hidden veela city…"

"Bloody hell…" Harry jaw literally hit the ground, as a majestic city of enormous proportions seemingly appeared out of thin air replacing the thick forest of mossy trees. Bold, grandiose and massive structures featuring chiaroscuro colonnades and domes stretched as far as the eye could see. Open grassy plains, colorful and man made lakes dotted every which way to complement the monumental architectures. Of course, none of this could even hope to compete against the grandness of muggle Paris one would witness as one walked along the Champs-Élysées. But compared with what could only be described as the dilapidation of magical Britain, the veela city was beyond impressive.

The young man's head swirled about to take in all the sights as the veela entourage led him and Fleur through the city. Wide-open pathways, paved with what appeared to be charmed marble tiles, which glistened brightly in the broad afternoon sunlight. For such a grand city, the streets were strangely deserted with but a few pedestrians loitering about. A few of the veela had looked rather curiously at the human male, but quickly moved along upon noticing who he was keeping company with.

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As the cloaked veela closed in to form a tight ring around Harry and Fleur, rapidly speeding them along to their final destination, two figures monitored the group's journey via a magic mirror within a fortified room in the palace.

"Little Aconite will have them here momentarily. Are you certain you are willing to accept my plan, your highness?" The veela aristocrat questioned, showing just a hint of a haughty sneer.

The tiara wearing veela ignored her companion's barb, answering calmly: "Like I said before, absolutely not, but I won't challenge it."

"Thank you so much, your highness." The white haired youth closed her eyes, physically biting her tongue to hold back the harsh retort she had on the edge of her lips. She knew the Comtesse was baiting her, trying to provoke her into throwing a fit like some spoiled teenage girl. She knew how the other veela's mind worked. Hard, coldly calculating, amazingly perceptive to the point of being dangerous, Blanche de Noire did not get to where she was by being stupidly insubordinate.

The young girl turned on the elder veela.

"We don't like each other, but even I know we are together in this. God help us all if you should fail."

The elder veela, however, remained unperturbed to the younger girl's dire warning.

"Oh, looking after the welfare of someone?" She guessed, nodding towards the magic mirror still centered on Harry, Fleur and their veela escort.

"Only the welfare and safety of our people. Lavender can look after herself. She doesn't need me." The veela royalty spat back. The comtesse only smirked as if pleased to have extricated an angry emotional reply from the normally calm and reticent girl.

"Curious how you speak as if 'Lavender' is a real person and not a simple alias."

The princess looked away, not bothering to answer that particular inquiry.

"If your plan fails, we are as good as dead or have you forgotten what Thanatos did? Don't '_fuck'_ up, Comtesse de Noire." Blanche smiled at her fellow veela's colorful word choice.

"Not to worry, I don't intend to." As sincere as the venerated elder veela sounded, the veela princess wasn't reassured. She was about to open her mouth to speak again when the door opened.

"Pardon for the intrusion, my lady, your highness, but the human guest requests her ladyship's presence for a previously arranged matter. She says it's urgent."

The princess looked questioningly at the comtesse, who was smirking in a rather devious manner.

"Hmm… the little human bitch that initially came with the Delacour girl challenged me to a little duel. Not to worry, now's not the time, so I won't hurt her… too much."

"Please inform Aconite, I mean _'Lavender'_, to keep our guests occupied while I take care of a little problem. Shouldn't take more than half an hour at most." The aristocratic woman gave younger veela a much too carefree smile as she walked away.

As the door closed shut leaving the princess alone with her thoughts, she wondered not for the first time if she should have taken Lavender's advice and scrapped the comtesse's scheme. Technically it was within her powers as the Royal Princess of the French Veela and she suspected that even now Lavender harbored hopes that she would override the comtesse's authority.

The young princess sighed, blowing hot air out of her mouth and watching strands of her snow white hair fly upwards as a result. But then what could have she done? Comtesse de Noire had made it very clear that any opposition to her golden plan would be met by all the force her prestigious title and position could bring to bare. And it was much too naïve for her to hope that the ever vigilant veela could be ambushed. She just didn't have the heart to instigate a war that would pit French veela against French veela, sisters against sisters, mothers against daughters, and families and friends against each other.

'_Fucking politics…'_ The young lady ruefully shook her head. But it was far too late now. She had given her word and was every bit as committed to the present course of action. One way or another it would all be over soon.

The Veela Princess took one last look at the magical mirror. To the handsome young English boy, Lavender had often spoken so fondly of, she offered one very fitting epithet: "_Je suis désolée_. I'm sorry, so very sorry."

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Harry watched in silence as all but the leader of the cloaked veela escorts exited the front door of the dome like interior of the grand palace. He watched as the still cloaked veela moved towards him, but instinctively shrunk away and dropped into a defensive stance as she pushed against his personal space. Surprised, the veela backed away, turning to Fleur for help.

"It iz ok, 'arry."

Trusting his lover, Harry allowed the other veela to guide him into the center of the room where after the veela uttered some words in French, a dais podium rose out of the ground. The young man felt a jolt pass through him as his right hand was pressed against the cold spherical surface.

"What was that?" He asked suspiciously.

"That keyed you into the ward around this city so you will be able to come here directly, Mr. Potter. My apologies for the long trip but the nature of the ward made it necessary for you to come through the long way the first time around. It's to prevent surprise visits by large groups of unpleasant people. From now on, though, you may travel here without having to go through the forest first."

Harry nodded. This city wide ward vaguely resembled the _fidelius_ charm he read about recently, with the possible exception of being light years ahead in terms of scope of area covered and degree of security offered. Thanatos's diary had alluded to at least half a dozen potentially critical weaknesses to the now popular secrecy spell all of which seemed to be covered by this ward.

As the veela released his hand and moved to walk away, Harry arm shot out and grasped the surprised veela by the arm.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" The male veela peered at the still cloaked and shrouded lithe figure, half curious and half suspicious. There was something about the girl that seemed very, very familiar. Almost unconsciously, Harry leaned into the veela while pulling the unresisting smaller girl closer to him as if hoping that by closing the distance between them he could catch hold of whatever it was that about her that was eluding him. It wasn't until the two were bodily pressed against one another that Harry suddenly backed off, having sensed the tension shooting out of his veela lover standing not three feet away.

With marked hesitation, the mysterious veela pulled back her shroud, revealing a shock of white blonde hair framed around a beautiful heart shaped face with high aristocratic cheekbones. Harry found himself being pulled into the two prominent deep brown orbs, which sat on top of a cute button nose. The young woman looked roughly his age, but carried an aura of mystique and confidence of someone far older and experienced. Harry had no problem admitting that she was gorgeous. And he was by no means an easy judge of purely physical attractiveness given the bevy of beauties he had become acquainted with. Even so Harry had to fight against an inane urge to blush as the young veela curled her cupid bow lips into a coquettish smile.

"You could say that."

As if suddenly losing her shyness, the young girl linked her arm around Harry's like an old friend and whispered conspiratorially in his ears:

"You took my best friend to the Yule Ball."

The brief expression of confusion that crossed the young man's features was almost immediately replaced by one of surprise and awe.

"Lavender? But, how!" How indeed. The petite and pale exotic creature before him _looked nothing_ like the ditzy teenage bimbo from school.

Harry must have had a funny look on his face because Lavender broke down in giggles. But it wasn't the annoying high pitched shriek she often shared with Parvati; this sound actually made Harry's feel pleasantly warm. Of course, he warmed up a hell lot more when without preamble, Lavender, the veela, darted forward and pulled her schoolmate into a sizzling kiss.

In retrospect, Harry would have liked to have been able to say that he had resisted with all his might, but alas that was not to be. Having voluntarily cut himself in anticipation of meeting his French lovers, Harry really didn't expect to be caught in a situation where he couldn't find relief. But that was exactly what had happened in the aftermath of the previously mentioned argument with Fleur. The male veela was effectively sitting on top of a mountain of suppressed excess sexual tensions along with a good dose of self-guilt, anger and hurt (the last coming from the cold shoulder Fleur gave him earlier). Hence, it wasn't surprising that his innate defenses against this sexy girl's advances happened to be a bit weaker than usual. It also didn't help that said sexy girl was a fully trained pure blood veela, who knew exactly where and how to push Harry's button.

So, for about thirty seconds, Harry was far too engrossed with figuring out whether the girl in front of him tasted like cherry or strawberry to worry about the expression the girl standing less than a meter away was wearing. It wasn't until he caught sight of the glare a certain quarter veela was directing at them, that Harry's mind caught up to his hormone drugged body…

'_Shit.'_ Of course, when it did, it just about killed his rising hardness.

"I see zat you know each other rather vell." Fleur's calm and leveled voice took both Harry and Lavender by surprise. And they were doubly surprised by the darkly humored addendum. "And you said you didn't 'av such 'friendz' at Hogwarts."

Harry was amazed that even as his lover was undoubtedly feeling hurt and betrayed, she managed to reign in her primal urges enough to crack a joke... or at least he thought it was a joke. Still, while he was relatively certain that she wouldn't develop a ranting rage or transform into a flame throwing bird, the feeling passing through their bond was bad enough to make Harry wince.

The pureblood veela was even more impressed by the level of control the untrained quarter blood veela possessed. Had she been born as part of the community and not as an outsider and considered to be an obstacle, she most likely would have had a bright future. _'How truly unfair life is…'_

Fleur walked towards Harry, stopping so that she was just inches away from him. The male veela struggled for a minute to try to come up with a semi-plausible excuse before sagging in defeat. Even so, his emerald eyes never wavered from meeting Fleur's blue ones.

"I'm sorry, Fleur."

The blonde girl calmly looked at her younger lover.

"Are you really, 'arry?"

Of course he was sorry… or so Harry wanted to rant and yell but found that he truthfully couldn't. What was it that he was really sorry about? For kissing the other girl? For yelling at her earlier? Or perhaps, he simply apologized because it was expected of him?

"It'z… it'z ok, 'arry. She's one of the ones anyway." The older teen grounded out in a resigned manner as she looked at the white haired veela on the side. Giving the stunned young man a warm hug, the quarter veela then proceeded to give Harry a very juicy kiss on the lips, the same lips which had just moments before had been locked onto the girl beside them.

"Taste like strawberry." She remarked in an offhanded manner. Then with a flourish of her silky blonde hair, Fleur walked away, muttering something about finding her best friend so that they could get on with it.

Click – clock… the sound of two pair of boots echoed through the long deserted hallways of the grand palace. One would think it rather strange that there would be no one around, but at that moment, Harry was way too preoccupied with his own thoughts. In fact he was pretty much being dragged along by his veela companion and classmate.

'_So she's one of 'them', huh?'_ The male veela thought as he gave the veela a more critical look-over. On the one hand, he noticed that Lavender wasn't 'really' a cup C going D, though to be truthful, given her stature a B was really more than adequate. On the other hand, the close contact allowed him to get a very good sense of the taut muscles rippling just underneath her robes. Clearly either the girl knew some serious glamour charms or the Hogwarts robes did much too good a job of hiding a student's features. Harry could sense the barely suppressed emotions of lust and want lying inside the girl. On the one hand, his natural instinct was interacting with those perceived emotions, slowly turning his inside into a raging inferno. On the other hand, the powerful thrill from earlier to bed the lovely beauty before him was being assaulted by feelings of doubt and guilt.

As the male veela was lost in the depth of his mind, the veela female soldier also had her own haunting thoughts to contend with. Currently she was afflicted with a pang, no not a pang; A pang indicated a notion of smallness that was completely the opposite of what the pureblood veela felt. What the veela codenamed Aconite, formally disguised as the human girl Lavender Brown, felt was nothing less than an earth shattering screech that sent her heart reeling in pain. She was absolutely disgusted with herself for kissing Harry Potter. Of course, it had felt wonderful beyond description; and she felt her mouth salivate as she thought of what they would do very soon. Yet at the same time, she also felt despicably dirty; dirty for having tried to poison the beautiful relationship between the two lovers. And this wouldn't even compare to what she would soon take part in committing. Only years of training and an imbued mentality of imperviousness kept the girl from fleeing from where she felt she just shook hands with the devil. It was a very good thing that Harry was too caught up with his own thoughts to notice the emotions his companion was suffering through. By the time conversation resumed¸ the veela had successfully pushed her reservations into the recesses of her mind

"So if you are French and a veela at that, what were you doing at Hogwarts when Beauxbatons is so much closer to home?" Curiosity but also a hint of suspicion was clear in Harry's question.

The veela bit her lips. This was a tricky issue. Historic analysis of male veela had shown that they were unnaturally adept at picking up the slightest lie or exaggeration from a female's words. Some had dubbed half jokingly, half seriously it as the ultimate male response to the so called 'woman's intuition'. In essence, she would have be to as honest as possible while innocuously stirring the conversation away from topics that might force her to reveal something about the plot currently in play. This might have been a daunting if not impossible task for any normal human girl, whose mind had a good chance of being turned into mesh at the very presence of a male veela. But _Aconit Violet_ had been trained for exactly this sort of thing.

"I won't lie to you, Harry. Can I call you that, by the way?"

"Might as well since we are going to end up sleeping together." The girl took her soon to be mate's dry response in stride, though her pale cheeks did take on a noticeably pink hue.

"Very well… Harry. The reason I was at Hogwarts was so that I could seduce you."

The male veela instantly tensed but Harry somehow resisted the urge to back away from the girl.

"Why? Because I was the Boy Who Lived?" The young man felt memories of his previous encounters with Dumbledore flashing across him. Expecting a similar sprawl about his role in providing for the greater good, the simple 'oui' he got took Harry completely by surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"I said 'yes'. You are special, Harry, and have been ever since that fateful encounter with the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort wizard who's currently rampaging in your country."

Harry allowed a few seconds of silence to develop before setting the bait.

"I was told that it was my mother's love that saved me." A soft smile graced the pretty veela's face as she felt her companion studying her intently.

"Do you think your mother was the only parent who ever gave her life trying to protect her offspring from the killing curse?" When Harry looked away, the veela momentarily panicked thinking she said something wrong. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any disrespect for the person who gave you birth, milord."

Harry proceeded to wave her off but stopped as his mind picked up the last bit.

"Lord?"

"That is correct. By virtue of being the male veela, you are our lord, Monsieur Potter."

A troop of about half a dozen more blondes walked towards the slowly walking couple. At the head were a silver haired woman, maybe an inch taller than him, and a much younger white haired youth, wearing a golden tiara. Four pale, stone faced veela guards, wearing blue and purple robes with flowery embellishments, followed at about half a pace behind.

"Matriarch, Your Royal Highness." Lavender acknowledged. The stateswoman nodded while the young royalty whom she bowed to seemed mighty miffed by her display of formality and showed it with a disapproving glare.

Lavender, except for the briefest hint of a smirk, ignored this and turned to Harry. "Harry, these are two of the most important people of our community; Matriarch Celeste Caillaude and Princess Violette Mercière."

"_Enchanté, mademoiselle_." Going by what he gleaned from various texts on traditional customs, Harry gently took the young royalty's hand and lightly kissed it. When he rose, he saw the older woman appraising him with an air of approval while Lavender grinned openly at the slightly flushed veela princess. Looking between the two girls, Harry briefly wondered if they might be related before remembering they were all veela. Of course, they were all petite, blonde, slim and gorgeous in the almost same exact ways. These two girls probably just seemed more similar to each other given the pure white hair they both had as compared to the silvery blonde of the others. In fact, the only physical difference Harry could see was their differing eye color; Lavender's eyes were a rich hazel in coloring while the veela royalty had two large sapphire orbs, which sparkled with vivaciousness.

"I suppose I should 'thank you' for the arranging all this, madam. Seven veela is after all every man's dream." The sarcasm might have been a bit unfair, since Harry most certainly wasn't inherently opposed to living out this 'every man's dream', but wasn't entirely out of place. Here he was, possibly just hours from living a fantasy few men would have even dared to dream and yet he just couldn't look forward to it.

"I'm afraid most of the credit must go to _Comtesse de Noire_, but I do assume partial responsibility." _Comtesse de Noire_; Harry filed the name away for future consideration.

"You know, I still don't know what the exact nature of this 'quid pro quo' deal is…" Quite untrue as Harry pretty much knew what the whole deal was. Understanding its logic was another matter. Supposedly by screwing and bonding seven of the veela of their choosing, he, Harry, would be recognized as the rightful lord of the veela community, which in return, would pledge to fully support him with all of their political and military might. But the whole thing just had a smack of surrealism that made it very difficult for Harry to swallow.

"Thanatos's Diary mentioned that I would be the rightful lord of the veela by virtue of existing." The females in question looked at one another in surprise. That Harry would have gotten his hands on the age old relic regarding his heritage this early clearly didn't cross any of their minds.

"True, but bonding with a veela would solidify that relationship in the eyes of everyone." Lavender offered cautiously. To Harry, the response was spoken without conviction, sounding distinctively dry and rehearsed.

"I'm already bonded with a part veela." A fact which Harry doubted the other veela missed.

"Madame Delacour had, I'm afraid, rejected the veela community entirely in favor of assimilating herself and her daughter fully into French wizarding society… Mademoiselle Delacour is, therefore, an unacceptable choice." Harry growled, his eyes glowing hot red with anger.

"I don't enjoy being told who I could deal with, much less who I should share my bed with." The female entourage shrank away, taken back by the young man's sudden vehemence and, indeed, devotion to his own.

"Of course not, Harry. If you really don't want to, we won't force this." The other females swerved to look at their princess in surprise, but the royal heiress only ignored her compatriots as she favored the young man with an indulgent smile, a smile that sought to convey a note of apology and a feeling of good will; and a smile that the male veela couldn't help but react to in kind.

"Perhaps, we should talk about more pleasant matters?" The princess's suggestion was found to be readily agreeable. And the mood lightened significantly as Harry bartered easily with his classmate and the two veela dignitaries. The young man was pleasantly surprised at how forthcoming and genuinely interested they were in answering all of his questions and inquiries.

Still an undercurrent of unease was still thick in the air. Harry couldn't help but think that the cute veela princess changed the topic not only because it was making him uncomfortable. Everyone seemed to be inordinately concerned with making him feel comfortable. And the offering to him of not one, not two, but _SEVEN_ tempting baits? What was that all about? Back when he was 'only' the Boy Who Lived, Lavender had been the only one set for him and Harry would have been quite happy with the arrangement had he not met Fleur. So why such excess now? If this was a smoke screen, what was it that was being hidden?

"… but we do hope that you'll give us the chance, Harry. I realize that you have already bonded to Fleur, but to be frank, she's only a quarter veela and far removed from her culture. The seven of us that have been arranged for you, however, are very much in tune with our heritage and we could make it _'very'_ enjoyable for you." Lavender's cheery voice dropped several pitches to take on a much more husky and sexy tone.

'_I don't doubt that…'_ Harry thought as he felt his inner fires being expertly stroked while slim nimble hands slipped under his clothes. He entertained the playful veela's advances for a minute before thinking it too absurd – or was it erotic? – that the girl was literally fondling him in front of complacent veela dignitaries. _'Talk about a one track mind…'_

"… You'll also find, Lord Potter, that this formal alliance would give you unprecedented levels of access to normally government sanctioned resources." The Matriarch noted sagely, casting a gaze at Lavender at the end. "Resources, which should be very useful in your feud against the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort."

"You mean political and military resources?"

"Amongst other things." Having seen how quickly they managed to slip him into France with a cross-channel portkey, Harry had a good idea that these people must have pretty good political clout. But an actual militia…

"You don't think we can fight? And against the rag-tag bandits your rogue English lord has assembled, no less." The royal heiress sounded very amused. When a puzzled Harry looked at her, she gave a broad smile, flashing two rows of perfectly neat and white teeth.

"The comtesse and I believe one of yours are currently dueling. I think you'll find that their demonstration would be most informative. Shall we?" A pale, slender arm rose, seeking his own while a pair of unnaturally large blue eyes pined his own emerald ones.

"Of course, your highness." Harry allowed the young princess to link arms with him as Lavender had done and then to guide him away.

Following behind the two, the Matriarch arched a questioning eyebrow towards the white haired youth beside her. Lavender looked back at her, shrugged once, and turned her attention back to two people in front of her. The elder veela smiled sadly in response.

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**Translation:**

**Le Bastion **– bastion, stronghold

**Je suis désolée** – I am sorry


	12. Veela Deceptions

**Rating:** M for lime, petting, allusions to sex and bloodshed. **NO SMUT** for this chapter. Sorry.

**Posted: 4/23/2006**

**Betas: Yogert, Lord Sivart**

A big thanks to the newest member of the beta team, Lord Sivart. He has been simply _awesome_ in providing me with insights and in being a sound board for all my ideas. Kudos to him!

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**Chapter 12: Veela Deceptions**

"**_Reducto!_**"

"**_Stupefy!_**" The target effortlessly danced around the first spell and absorbed the second one head on, shrugging off its effect.

This being the first time he had actually seen his lovers dueling, Harry was reasonably impressed. Given their natural air of aristocratic importance, he had initially held his French bedmates' ability to defend themselves in suspect. Five minutes of watching them duel, however, put Harry much at ease. Either because of their greater age and experience or because of whatever training they received in France, Fleur and Regine were clearly more than adequately able to defend themselves. But it was also clear that they were outmatched by the woman who they were ranked against. Tall and agile, the woman gracefully weaved in and out of the firing range of the two like a ballet dancer.

"Who is that?" The male veela questioned, speculatively watching the unknown veela, who also had a crown of shockingly white hair like Lavender and the veela royalty. From her cheerful and relaxed composure as compared to the flushed and angry faces of her opponents, Harry would guess she was subtly taunting them into ever more reckless, frantic and uncoordinated attacks.

"That would be _la Comtesse Blanche Belladonna de Noire_. She is our senior military commander and the most experienced duelist we have." The veela royalty answered.

"She killed two ancients at the same time once." The Matriarch added.

"That too." Princess Violette acknowledged with grudging respect.

Harry's eyebrows immediately arched upwards in a rather comical fashion. Powerful, super fast even for a vampire and unbelievably crafty and cunning, ancients represented the cream of the crop of those undead who survived the cruelest tests undead existence and time had to offer. Usually hundreds if not thousands of years old, with a belt full of combat experience and a host of acquired special abilities and immunities, ancients were notoriously hard to kill. The male veela suddenly felt really, really bad for his lovers.

The white haired veela played with her opponents for another ten minutes. Occasionally, she tossed in a weak jinx to annoy them, but mostly just dancing away from incoming fire. Harry frowned at the lack of coordination between his girls. With the way the fight was going, their opponent could end the fight at any moment. And she did just that when Fleur moved too close to utter a rather vicious and semi-dark curse.

"**_Oblido Maximus_!**" Closing the gap between them with astonishing speed, the comtesse grabbed the Delacour girl's wand arm twisted it sideways so that it was pointing at her friend when she finished uttering the curse. The blue-eyed blonde desperately tried to dodge the unexpected friendly fire, but just wasn't quick enough. The curse smashed against her right shoulder, sending the girl crashing into the ground screaming in pain. Completely dumbfounded, Fleur stood like a dummy as her opponent's hand delivered the coup de grace chop against her solar plexus in the very next moment.

"Shit!" Harry was all but running by then; his wand drawn and raised to exact vengeance against this bitch.

"**_Intercido!_**" The purple light rocketed towards the enemy at an unbelievable speed. The white haired woman was only saved from being blown to pieces by her equally quick reflexes. But Harry had successfully forced back the veela, who seemed unwilling to retaliate.

Harry's mind flicked to an old memory of a much younger Riddle casting an obscure curse that set aflame half a dozen men. The young green-eyed warrior acted instantly; the incantation for the deadly spell rolled off of his tongue without missing a beat.

"**_Concremo Plurimus!_**" But due to either a lack of practice and/or control, the spell only unleashed a medium sized volley of firebombs instead of carpeting the entire area with orange flames. Still the curse was very powerful and laid a series of flaming projectiles in a concentric pattern from front to back that made it hard for the veela to avoid being hit.

'_Gotcha!'_ was Harry's first thought. But then the target back flipped into the air, sprouting several sets of feathery, angelic white wings. The creature took to the air; easily flying over the attacks, which devastated the smooth marble tiles, she stood on just moments earlier.

Harry tightened his hold on his wand. The veela's controlled bird transformation was difficult enough when the veela was standing upright and usually took half a minute. For this veela to have been able to do it in midair, in the middle of a rotating flip and under three seconds… That was way more than just impressive. Harry shifted his weight to the balls of his heels, preparing to launch another attack. But the slight lull in battle was enough for an outside voice to get through.

"Harry! STOP!" Lavender's cry shook Harry out of his daze to see that several veela had gathered to tend to the wounded human girl. The veela combatant, floating in a defensive position kept her distance until he dropped his attack stance. Shaking his head clear, Harry fought down the primal urge to leap forward to protect what was his. Reason told him that it was an accident and given that his understanding of the magical healing magic was currently mediocre at best, it was probably best that he just remained calm. He did, however, pull a revived Fleur away as she was babbling incoherently at her friend, who was still withering on the ground in pain, and generally obstructing others.

"It's ok, Fleur. It's not your fault. Regine is going to be all right. They'll fix her." He stated, stroking the distraught girl.

"Her superficial wounds have been cleaned, but her shoulder blade is split in at least two places." Indeed, Regine's entire right shoulder was a mass of purple with two small jagged red spots, where it looked like shards of the bone had pierced the skin.

"_Une guérisseuse, vite_!" The Matriarch called out. One of her guards immediately rushed out, but the serious looking Lavender shook her head.

"Take too long. Hold her still. I'll offer some of my blood." Caught up in the moment and curious about what his classmate meant, Harry missed the flash of displeasure that appeared on Comtesse de Noire's face.

Lavender calmly drew forth a purple, jagged dagger and made a semi-deep slit in her wrist. Displaying only the slightest of winces, she pressed her wrist against the purplish region of Regine's shoulder. A golden light surrounded the sick looking wound while Lavender chanted a few chosen words. Seconds later, the shoulder bone was made whole and the surrounding skin was returned to a golden ripe color. The formerly wounded girl looked at her completely healed limb with astonishment.

"Unbelievable!" Crouching down, Harry gingerly examined his consort's arm. Sure, Thanatos mentioned this, but seeing the miraculous powers of a pure veela's blood was another thing. By all accounts, pure veela blood and phoenix tears healed by the same principle, with the one prerequisite that phoenix tears had to be willingly shed.

'_Where as veela blood works whether willingly shed or not.'_ A quick scan of the room showed him that some of the other veela were not pleased with what Lavender had done. And perhaps for good reason. If news of this little fact ever makes it into the open...

Harry rushed over to his girls to give them hugs and kisses before turning his attention back towards his veela classmate. He looked at the bloodied blade Lavender was holding with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. The jagged edges, coupled with the red blood on dark purple coloring gave it a distinctively sinister look. The young veela, however, wielded it with ease; cleaning it with two swipes before sheathing it somewhere on her thigh.

"You always carry that around?" Harry asked. Lavender hesitated for but a moment before answering.

"_Bien sur_."

"Even while at Hogwarts?" A single nod.

"Trade secret." Harry nodded, deciding to defer further questions until another time as the hovering Veela guided down.

"_Je suis désolée_. We were simply having a friendly duel." The revered Comtesse de Noire calmly explained.

"It's alright, your… ladyship. In fact I should apologize to you for my aggressive stance. I reacted on instinct when Regine was hurt." Harry winced as he looked at the demolished marble tiles.

"Quite understandable, though you might want to inform your girls to be more careful of friendly fire next time." There was something not entirely pleasant in the comtesse's tone of voice. The girls, who were comforting each other, took on dark expressions, clearly taking offense to the fact that the older woman had refused to address their short comings directly.

"I'll take that into consideration." Harry flashed both of his girls a semi-stern look. The two backed down, slinking away with slightly lowered heads. Anger gave way to shame, shame at having been bested in such a humiliating fashion before their lover, lord and master. The male veela's features, however, immediately softened. While Harry can't say he was pleased with their performance, they had faired quite well against a very powerful foe and he definitely didn't want to make them feel bad for that.

"It's ok." He cooed reassuringly, pulling Regine to him and pressing his forehead against hers. The older girl sighed in comfort, allowing herself to be pulled into the male veela's loving embrace. Wrapping his free arm around Fleur, Harry held both girls affectionately against his chest for the next two minutes. When they separated, all three were feeling a whole lot better.

"Harry Potter…"

"Comtesse Blanche Belladonna de Noire, my lord. I trust that your journey was not too unpleasant." The veela nodded courteously once before standing tall again, holding herself with awe inspiring grace, poise and an air of majesty. Harry nodded in kind, being very careful to keep an eye on the powerful woman in front of him. No matter how easy she was on the eyes, here was someone one should always be wary of.

"Not too much."

"Very good." Dropping her voice an octave lower, the veela aristocrat leaned forward and spoke in a husky voice. "I look forward to our first time together."

To his credit, Harry did not react physically, but his head did turn to look questioningly at Lavender. His veela of a classmate only gave him a half smile, half shrug.

"The comtesse is also the head of your chosen seven. In fact, she was largely responsible for selecting the other candidates." Fleur and Regine bristled with obvious though not overt displeasure. But they weren't the only ones uncomfortable with the arrangement. Harry looked hard at the gorgeous busty Nordic beauty. Hormonal teenagers were one thing, mature nympho veela that radiated sexuality like the one before him were clearly something else. On a whim, he tried superficially probing her.

'_No luck.'_ Apparently Fleur was correct; veela were natural occlumens, though he couldn't be sure. While being fairly competent (to the best of his knowledge) in the art of occlumency, Harry knew he wasn't nearly as proficient in the field of legilimency.

"Would you like to meet the rest of the girls, my lord?"

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Harry Potter closed the door behind him leaving him alone with his two currently bonded ladies. The meeting with his potential veela mates had given him some interesting food for thought.

The remaining five girls were all half blood veela and veritable angels on their own: Each had the trademark silvery blonde hair, the slim, athletic figure, coupled with balanced curves and topped with well proportioned, perky breasts. But what had really surprised Harry was when he was told that there was an age difference of almost ten years between the youngest and oldest. Considering that not a single one of them looked a day over 18, Harry had been somewhat fearful of the age of the youngest veela.

"The youngest of the five is 16." Harry was pretty sure Lavender had laughed at his audible sigh of relief.

"… **_Biological fixation, also called pseudo-elf life is the biological process in which a veela's physical and anatomical features as well as her sex drive are statically conditioned for a number of years to remain in a relatively youthful and hyperactive state. The exact time span and the age of fixation vary from veela to veela._**"

Harry chuckled. Apparently a normal part veela could expect to live the life of a 17 or 18 year old for at least a decade. With biological advantages like that, no wonder other females aren't generally fond of veela.

"Are you alright, 'arry?"

"Yeah, just thinking. I should be asking you that." In light of his atrocious behavior – most particularly, kissing, fondling and generally getting chummy with his classmate, all in front of Fleur – Harry was pretty much expecting the worst.

But Fleur was far different from the image of the angry, scorned lover Harry had pictured. In fact, she looked very demure and downright unsure of herself.

"We are if you are, 'arry." She answered after a pause.

Fleur's response wasn't what he was expecting; far too diplomatic, almost as if _she_ was afraid of setting _him_ off. But wasn't he the one who wronged her and Regine? Whatever it was, Harry knew instinctively that he should do something or say something at least.

"I missed you girls." Harry acknowledged at long last; his arms stretched outwards in an apologetic but hopeful manner. If not '_the_' right answer, it was definitely one of the better ones. The two girls looked at one another, made a noise that sounded like a cross between squealing and crying and leaped into Harry's embrace to attack him with kisses.

The grateful young man flooded the bond link he shared with his two girls with feelings of love and warmth. The two French girls sighed happily before reciprocating in kind, enveloping him and each other in a three way hug. Harry was amazed when he sensed the girls' naked want crashing over him in waves. Suddenly, he recognized what it was that Fleur was feeling. She was hurt; he had hurt her and Regine when he had ignored them by turning his attention towards the other sexy veela. And now, they wanted assurances; assurances that these veela won't come in between them.

"I'm sorry." Harry apologized in a whisper, vowing to himself to make it up to them, especially Fleur.

Wasting no time, he pulled a surprised but unresisting Fleur into a sizzling French kiss while lightly playing with Regine's stiff nipples through her shirt. Within minutes, Harry had both of his ladies withering and moaning with wanton lust. Their tongues dueled one another ravenously for supremacy while their hands wandered over and under each other's clothes, fervently seeking and then stimulating each other's pleasure nodes.

It was Regine who gave out first; her legs buckled and her body pulsed with spasms of pure pleasure as the combined ministrations of her lovers sent her crashing over the edge. Only Harry's quick reaction saved the satiated girl from dropping onto the ground like a sack of potatoes. Gently the male veela lowered his human lover onto the ground in what proved to be a cumbersome operation as a feisty veela had refused to let go.

"_C'est si bon._" Regine cooed in delight. Harry only managed a grunt in response. For some reason, Fleur seemed intent on making him shoot a wad in his pants.

'_Must stop before … get out of hand!'_

"Fleur, stop!" The forceful command finally froze the girl, giving Harry the opportunity to extricate Fleur's hand from beneath his pants.

"Later, I promise. But not now." He added upon seeing Fleur's slightly downtrodden expression. Harry's reassurance coupled with the way his fingers was sensually digging deep into her luscious blonde mane soundly defeated whatever protests she had mustered. Repeating with the still half dazed Regine, the male veela soon grinned in triumph as the two girls affectionately nuzzled his cheeks.

It was a few minutes before they quelled their runaway passions and regained their bearings. At which time, Harry dropped the bombshell.

"So, about these seven veela…"

The simple solution, for the three of them, was to drop out of this deal. Whatever Fleur might say to the contrary, Harry knew in the heart of his heart that she was extremely jealous of the veela. That was saying something given how open the part veela seemed to be on the other girls he could knock boots with. Regine, on the other hand, was much more forthcoming with her viewpoints as she ranted rapidly and heatedly in her native tongue. While Harry was not yet fluent in French, the French words for "harlots," "whores," and something roughly "go back to the slums of Marseilles" made the meaning of her soliloquy loud and clear to him.

An amused Fleur took the opportunity to fill Harry in. Apparently, the veela had been more than a little cool in their reception of _his_ girls. Regine took major exception to this and took it straight to the prima donna of the whole show, Comtesse Blanche Belladonna de Noire. In retrospect, it was a very foolish venture as the veela, more or less, told the human girl to buzz off. One thing led to another and ended, of course, in the rather spectacular defeat of both girls by the comtesse.

Fleur seemed abnormally hung up over their defeat at the hands of the more experienced dueler, but Harry wasn't sure why or what he could do about it. He commented that these veela could have behaved better.

'_Or at least didn't come on me like a freight train.'_

"Veela are very aggressive when it comez to someone they want. They want you, 'arry; I can feel it. And because of zat they see us az rivalz in the battle for you affection. _La Comtesse_ sensed Regine'z jealousy and used it against 'er."

"Is that what Lavender did? I'm not making excuses, but I don't think I was completely in control."

'_Actually, I doubt I have been in control since coming here.'_ Thought the male veela grudgingly. It was strange in an uncomfortable kind of way. Since becoming a male veela, he wasn't used to not being in control, especially when dealing with the opposite sex in a sexual sense.

Fleur then reacted in the most inexplicable manner, of course. She actually laughed, and not in a polite, cutesy manner but in a bellyful way that made her drop to her feet. Most inappropriate, but quite heart warming and funny.

"I ztill remember ze day when Maman complimented me in ze most peculiar fashion. She said zat I would never 'av problem stilling a man'z heart from another girl... except if zat girl waz a pure veela. In which case, she advised zat I stay far away. I did not comprehend what she meant until now."

Harry couldn't help but wonder what kind of a mother would praise her daughter's beauty by saying she can steal any girl's man. _'A veela mother apparently._'

"Why's that?"

"_Because Fleur darling, you would certainly fail where az ze other veela might try to steal your love interest in which case she would definitely succeed. Une Haute Veela always gets her man._ Zat waz what she said. I guess even a male veela could be affected. I don't blame you for… what 'appened back zere."

'_Oh, that's good to hear.'_ Harry sighed in relief.

"It waz your right after all. The veela are yourz."

'_Oh, that doesn't sound as good.' _

"Is that what you are afraid of? That these veela would steal me away from you if you didn't agree?" Now that seemed to make sense and it made Harry feel very, very pissed. Like hell, he was going to let them threaten and intimidate his girls. Fleur, however, seemed unsure how to answer that.

"Yes." Harry and Fleur turned to see a grim looking Regine, who appeared to have been listening in on their conversation for some time.

"Impossible. You are both bonded to me and I'm positive you are, indeed, my alpha, Fleur." Answered the male veela with absolute confidence. Having double checked Thanatos's notes, he was about as sure as he can be.

"_Mais_, we never performed ze bonding ceremony or…" He shushed his skeptical lover by dropping to his knees and sealing her mouth with a quick kiss.

"Tell you what. We can have one as soon as we get out of here to settle this once for all. But I assure you, they could no more dislodge either you or Regine from me than … I can make the sun rise." Of course, Harry had no way of knowing at this point that there might exist those that think he can do just that.

He gave the two French girls a few minutes to think before coming to what he thought was the logical conclusion.

"We are done here then. Neither of you like this, they are grabby, and you both know I definitely don't need seven more veela to be happy." Stated Harry without regret. In fact, saying that made the young man feel a lot better; kind of make him wonder why he hadn't just said that in the beginning.

"So can we leave then?" Regine asked just to be sure, her voice filled with undisguised eagerness.

The Beauxbatons prefect was, apparently, not as open as she had claimed at the end of that memorable threesome where she laid consumed in the lovey, dovey afterglow of great sex. While open and accepting in principle to Harry's effective need to sleep around, her inherent insecurity reared its head in the kinds of girls she felt comfortable sharing him with. Ideally, these girls would be several cup sizes below her and several weight classes above her. So… seven beautiful veela who blew Fleur, much less her, out of the water in the looks department, didn't exactly fit in her 'girls allowed to shag Harry' category.

Fleur personally thought that her friend's excessive possessive streak would lead her into trouble once his harem got larger; but here and now, Harry thought that it was all very endearing. After all the fun and games were over, it was very nice to know that someone wanted him for keeps. Besides, plenty of other fishes in the sea, right? Harry gave the blonde girl an acknowledging smile causing her to squeal in excitement. Her crystal blue eyes danced with mirth while vividly flashing him a 'someone is going to get lucky' sign.

But as the exuberant Regine was _'helping Harry get up'_ when Fleur's voice ringed out. In contrast to her cheerful friend, the part veela grew solemn after Harry's proclamation. Being her love's alpha was exactly what she had hoped for, but the moment it was confirmed, it also changed how she now looked the world.

"_Non_… we can't leave. 'arry can't leave, Regine." The part veela enunciated each word in the last sentence clearly while facing her friend.

'_What?'_ Harry was confused, but Regine, apparently, was not as confused.

"Excusez-moi, Fleur?" The human girl questioned with a darkening expression. She rose so rapidly that Harry would have fallen unceremoniously on his rear had it not been for his quick reflexes.

"'arry needz them. We can't leave." Fleur repeated.

And so Harry was treated to the sight of the first intra-harem verbal dispute between his girls. And of all the powers being male veela granted him, arbitrating proto catfights clearly wasn't one of them. Not only was the context of the dispute utterly inane – from his perspective – the girls jumped topics faster than they ever jumped his boner. So within 20 seconds, Harry was, for all practical purposes, immobilized by a splitting headache.

"_Arrete! Je t'aime comme une soeur_, Regine! But, you need to stop being so selfish." The girl in question bristled in anger at the callous remark, but the sharp-tongued older Delacour girl didn't give her friend a chance to respond. Fleur then seemed to suddenly acquire an unholy glow.

"You think I never desired 'arry for myzelf! You think zat part of me waz not boiling with jealous rage every time 'e _smiled_ at you, every time 'e _kissed_ you, every time 'e _fondled_ you and every time 'e _fucked_ you? Did you really think zat you are ze only best friend a girl ever 'ad? 'ow many girlz 'av female best friendz and 'ow many of them do you think share their boyfriends or lovers or husbands wiz those girlfriendz?" The part veela's powerful and thundering words reverberated through the room. Regine was visibly shaken and feeling vaguely like a dumb blonde.

"I, I… but I thought you said veela…"

"I'm quarter veela and _three quarters_ human."

Her friend had nothing to say to that and Fleur was finished. Her mystical glow diminished and she slumped backwards as if losing whatever force of will that compelled her to speak her mind.

Regine walked over and hesitantly wrapped her friend in a hug; Her angry countenance utterly shattered by her friend's confession and replaced with genuine concern and remorse. Minutes ago, the two girls were locked in heated arguments, just a hair shy from raining blows on each other; now the two were embracing and caressing each other like long lost lovers.

Taking the prudent choice to not overanalyze, Harry instead was focused on how was it that he never even sensed an inkling of such emotions from the part veela.

"How come you never said anything?" The question seemed to have genuinely surprised Fleur and forced her to dig deep in herself to find an answer.

"It waz not that bad, really. And being with you more than made up for it…"

"Fleur!" Harry called, giving her an insisting look.

"I think because it waz something master would not have wanted to know." The reply was short, crisp and candid.

"Sometimes what is wanted is not what is needed…"

'_She hid those emotions even from herself.'_ How peculiar, yet also sad and quite horrible. What it must have been like, what it must have took for one to repress a part of oneself so thoroughly that one did not even realize it. The male veela felt his stomach turn in a most uncomfortable manner.

"'arry…"

"'arry…"

"LOVER BOY!" That was Regine after Fleur was unsuccessful in getting their mutual lover's attention.

'_What!'_ Harry frowned wearily at his two madly giggling girls.

"We can't leave, 'arry."

"Why not?" Given what Fleur just revealed, Harry wasn't sure he really was in the mood anymore no matter how many veela they threw at him and no matter how much veela hormones they pumped into the air. But was that a good thing or a bad thing?

"Because you want to do thingz, achieve thingz, accomplish thingz, 'arry. It iz who you are. But you are going to need professional 'elp to do all zat. Do you think you can do a fraction of the thingz you said at Hogwarts alone? You also happen to be underage which makez it difficult to do anything formal unless you have alliez in 'igh placez. The veela are offering to give you all zat and to protect us." Noted Fleur with furrowed eyebrows and speaking the poise and seriousness of a statesman.

Harry blinked, once, twice, three times. At long last, the male veela let out an exhaustive sigh. His love was… right. For all his knowledge and fanciful dreams Thanatos filled his head with, he currently had no resources of his own. Heck, he effectively severed the link with possibly the only moderately pro-Potter faction at home because its leader was a manipulative, senile coot. And then he was 14 years old to boot. The young man gave the older girl who told him this a look bordering between disbelief and awe.

"I am your Alpha, _non_? It iz my duty to look after such thingz." This was definitely unexpected, but there was something that made him feel a little better. Given the utilitarian nature of the act, it would really be just sex? Most likely good sex given the participants involved, but it would still lack that special something 'his' girls had.

"…And you are sure you do not wish one of those veela to be your Alpha?"

"No." Was Harry's immediate answer.

"… Not even your classmate?"

"No."

"… She iz very beautiful." Very true, Harry had to admit. He was somewhat amazed that he didn't notice even after his veela transformation at the end of the year. But seriously…

"Merlin, if you ask me one more time, I'm spreading you over my lap, little missy." His little tease was answered with a delightful set of giggles.

"Hmm… Iz zat a promise?" Harry ignored his laughing alpha, turning to the other smiling blonde next to her.

"What about you, Regine? What do you think?"

The blonde girl looked at Harry, then looked her friend and then back at Harry.

"I will full heartedly accept and support my master and his Alpha's decision whatever it may be."

"Good answer, but your opinion would be more helpful here."

"Alright then. Fleur was right. She explained to me what you need to do but still I have been selfish. For that I humbly seek your forgiveness, my lord." Without further ado, the Beauxbatons prefect sank to her knees, placing her face mere centimeters away from Harry's crotch.

"eh, ah…" The sudden spike of hormones effectively short circuited the male's oratory and cognitive capacities. The girls intended to take full advantage of this. After all, it really wasn't normal for one to catch the male veela in such a manner.

"May I, mistress?" Harry vaguely recall a Fleur smiling nodding before he felt his pants being ripped from him.

"They might 'av their chance wiz you, but I want them to remind exactly who _came_ before them."

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Fleur and Regine caused quite a scene when they walked out with frizzled wet clothes, messed up hair with spots of milky white substances and radiant grins like cats that ate the canary. While the other veela were mostly surprised and aroused by Harry's scent, Comtesse de Noire took it to be a personal challenge. The highborn spared no effort in trying to rile both of Harry's girls up with carefully worded French barbs insulting amongst other things: their parents, lineage, character, hygienic habits, anatomical features, mating preferences and procreation capabilities. Coupled with disagreements over who would be present during the male veela's introductory session with the French veela – Fleur and Regine were adamant that they be present, while the comtesse was just as adamant that they weren't – the whole thing was almost called off.

Funny thing how some of the most influential veela present might have preferred that outcome (unconsciously at least) even though verbally they claimed otherwise. Lavender never ceased having second thoughts and she knew both the Matriarch and the Princess shared some of her misgivings. She _could_ lay the blame on her friend, for giving the comtesse's scheme even her reluctant approval. But she knew better; she knew how much the Princess had vexed over her decision and not just out of fear of precipitating a civil war with the comtesse.

But it was more than that. Where as Lavender knew she had the privilege of being a follower, the Princess, on the other hand, was a leader, _the_ leader. Her stately duties required her to look above the individuals and towards the strategic goals of the French.

It was in this context that Harry Potter walked in as the legendary male veela, a creature which the world had not seen for a thousand years. Screw _Boy-Who-Lived_; think _Boy-Who-Would-Rule-All_. And even that comparison was still weak. To a veela like the comtesse, it was as if the powers that be had gifted them with a god or at least a messiah.

"**_We shall have what is ours by right, consensually if possible, but coercively if necessary." _**That was her exact argument; succinct and crisp as always, but not without merit.

To the veela and other non human populations, Harry did represent a very powerful symbol and even more valuable prize. In which case, wouldn't it be better for them, the French veela, to '_make_' this male veela theirs than to let other less savory groups get their claws on him? Lavender knew this sort of 'either us or them' moral rationalization very well and she didn't like it one bit. But then, neither did she have a political and strategic duty to her people. And she wouldn't be the one held responsible should something bad happen to the male veela. It was times like this that Lavender realized how much more difficult the Princess's job was.

None of this would have mattered had Harry just left. The comtesse's plan depended on the male veela being sufficiently sexually drained and physically exhausted. If he had simply walked away, the veela would have had to let him go. No way were they going to risk a frontal assault on a male veela when he had two bonded at his side.

But as luck - or lack of it - would have it, Fleur and Regine eventually yielded and were led away into two of the smaller bedchambers by two of the veela. The Matriarch, the veela princess and their escorts quickly made their exit, leaving the male veela with the five remaining veela, who wasted no time in ushering him towards the nearest bedchamber.

"Aconit, you are acquainted with our lord, are you not? Why don't you go first? We'll give you some privacy." Lavender held back the scowl she wanted to give her superior. Though a superficially generous and selfless suggestion, the comtesse's intension was anything but. Lavender knew that the only reason she was going first was so she could alleviate Harry's anxiety and indeed whatever lingering suspicion he may had. And separated from his loyally bonded mates, the strenuous physical exertions would undermine what remained of Harry's defenses. A diabolic scheme indeed.

"Aconit? You're named after a poisonous flower?" Harry thought that was rather strange. Whoever knew being singled out by Snape on the first day of school would come in handy in remembering things. Lavender only smiled grimly in return.

"I'll explain it some other day. But right now, I'm dying to find out what was it that made that Delacour girl glow." The white-blonde haired veela grinned, batting her eyelashes coquettishly. It was on one hand so reminiscent of the Lavender Brown he knew, but on the hand also so very not because Lavender was never, ever, quite that sexy no matter how much she tried.

"Everybody noticed and all of us girls knew it had to have come from a guy. Arguments and speculations of who it was ran back and forth in the loo rooms from dawn to dusk; it was that tanned muscled 7th year Gryffindor one argued, it was the cheeky sly 6th year from Slytherin, it was the smart and well cut Ravenclaw prefect she went to the ball with…" Harry instinctively scowled at the mention of Roger Davies.

"... There were very few who actually thought this, especially as time went on. The most talked about a candidate, though, was that famous, dashing, up-and-coming playboy and completely unattainable Gryffindor seeker, Britain's very own Boy-Who-Lived." Lavender's grin became simply lecherous at this point. To his enormous credit, Harry did not blush, but neither did he resist as the veela divested him of his outer robes.

Harry's mind was turning and something just clicked.

"You were there. You were always there in the common room working with Parvati on your divination homework." The blonde girl gave him a conspirator's wink.

"You always came back each night looking a bit different from when you left. It wasn't hard to figure out. But I definitely wasn't the only one. More than a few connected your newfound boldness with girls with your close friendship with the Beauxbatons champion and came to the logical conclusion."

Sensing Harry's follow up question, Lavender added, "The only reason they said nothing was because they were terrified that they might be right. The boy of their _childhood_ dreams was now the boy of their _wet_ dreams; they definitely weren't fond of the prospect of competing against a veela, or even a part veela. As long as you and Fleur weren't being obvious, the girls were quite willing to ignore what their intuition was telling them."

"Oh and there the occasional instances where best friends duke it out right on the bathroom floors after finding out that they both nursed some hidden crush over you. I saw three myself personally."

'_Wow!'_ Harry wasn't sure what to say. He didn't think it was THIS bad.

"Parvati and Padma, were they…" Lavender laughed lightly.

"I didn't see, but most likely. Parvati was very, very pissed when she saw you and Padma having small talks." Harry winced. Now this was something he did truly feel bad about. From what he sensed, two sisters had a pretty close bond despite being in different houses. He should fix that as soon as possible.

"You sure know how to do your thing, Romeo. But I sense that you have since become better accustomed to controlling your new powers."

"Oh? You can sense my powers? Can you block it as well?"

'_Shit!'_ Lavender couldn't believe she let it slip. But the eloquent veela managed to quickly improvise.

"Part of it. After all, I'm a veela as well."

"But… even Fleur still have problem doing that and she's my bonded." This was a can of worms Lavender definitely didn't want to open. Luckily for her, she had managed to maneuver Harry onto the extra large, extra king-sized mattress and had already deftly disrobed herself and her prey.

As soon as the veela pressed her naked torso against Harry's equally naked one, every semi-coherent thought he had vanished without a trace. At that moment, the only thought Harry had was why the hell did he not partake in experiencing the wonderful nubile flesh of the fairer sex until his metamorphosis. Several sets of hands and mouths suddenly appeared on scene. Clearly the others were tired of waiting.

For one moment, a flash of worry did cross Harry's mind. Five females were two less than seven, but still three more than what he ever had to deal with. But by then, his hormones were in full swing. His brief spark of hesitancy was overwhelmingly crushed by his primal alpha urges, which screamed just one thing.

'_Bring it on!'_

For Lavender, a similar kind of 'live for today' mentality also took hold in her, but with a much more foreboding edge.

What was it that Julius Caesar said as he crossed the Rubicon in 49 BC, _'Alea iacta est'. _Seemingly out of place, does it not that some like Lavender would know such a quote; her schoolmates would definitely think so. But what do they know. The quote was in fact quite appropriate… on several levels for a veela who, though in the process of losing her physical virginity, was no virgin to combat.

The die had been cast indeed. Things definitely weren't going to be the same after today, for better and for worse or for worse and more worse in Lavender's case. She was not naïve enough to think this affair could end happily. But even so, the veela had no intention of letting that bleak thought ruin this once in a life time experience, no way, no how. Lavender was going to live out at least a piece of that little fantasy every little girl had at some point or another; you know, the one of kissing or being kissed by Prince Charming. This was kind of like that… except with a definite adult twist.

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"Wonderful, was it not?"

Blanche's cold azure eyes stared emotionlessly into Lavender's own bright hazel ones.

"This changed nothing."

The younger veela couldn't help but smirk at the less than optimal enthusiasm found in the elder veela's tone. While no virgin, neither was the virtual militant feminist taken to playing across the field. By the way her ample bosoms were poking holes through the thin vest she donned, Lavender knew the experience must have affected the comtesse at least as much as it had affected herself.

Suddenly, a loud squeal from a dainty little veela by the name of Guinevere drew the attention of both pure veela. The last of the five to take her turn, the playful 19-year-old teen was trying to make the still very virile male veela work for it. Yep, Harry was a beast all right.

While letting her superior stew, Lavender focused her attention on Harry's last very frisky bedmate. She thought it rather strange for such a happy and carefree girl to be mixed up in all of this. Sure, she herself squealed and swooned with Parvati, but that was really more for show. Gwen, however, was genuine. She was different. As far as Lavender knew, Gwen was not born within one of the secluded veela enclaves or even a veela family for that matters. Instead, she was the elder daughter of a mixed, but prosperous and well respected, wizarding and muggle family. Like many young veela, Gwen was ill-suited to live a human witch's life. After a near disastrous first year at Beauxbatons, she was transferred to the all veela academy near Strasbourg, where her keen intellect, scholastic achievements and athletic tenacity later garnered the attention of Comtesse de Noire. Unwaveringly faithful and loyal, Gwen really was _'the'_ poster girl of the kind of veela people like the comtesse wanted to nurture.

But Lavender couldn't help but feel a bit sad whenever she looked at the smiling girl three years her senior. Was ignorance really bliss? Apparently so.

"This changes nothing." The veela high lady repeated, this time with more certainty.

"There's only five…"

"More than enough. You will follow the plan, _oui_?" It was not a question. Lavender saw the remaining two veela take their position at the edge of the large bed.

"Yes, ma'am. If he refuses, I will do it."

"Do you think he would willingly dissolve the Alpha bond he has with _that_ veela?" The corner of the comtesse's mouth twitched in condescending amusement.

No answer.

"Why are you so intent on trying to save those girls?"

"It's something the Harry I know would have wanted."

"He won't be _'the Harry you know'_ much longer." Lavender plead ignorance as she stealthily stalked towards the still intimate couple, her pale hand fingering the leather sheath covering her namesake weapon.

"… My sister had said many wonderful things about you when she came back from Hogwarts at the end of the year." Said the veela spread across Harry's body.

"Really?" He asked curiously. Harry guessed her sister was one of the Beauxbatons student guests. But for the life of him, he couldn't recall seeing another veela in the Beauxbatons continent.

Gwen giggled.

"She's not a veela."

'_That explained it then.' _Harry was about to start listing names (as he, fortuitously, happen to have known all of the French girls there at Hogwarts) when he felt Gwen stiffen.

"Mind if I cut in?"

The sexy naked veela lying on top of him made herself scarce and was immediately replaced by another sexy near - naked veela, all before Harry said a word.

"I don't think I am up for another one."

"You just let me be the judge of that." Answered Lavender with a naughty grin. Twenty minutes later, a star gazing Harry Potter vowed to never question the spunky blonde. And to think she was actually a virgin before him.

"I like you, Harry, a lot. I really wish I had acted sooner." The-14-year old boy made an indistinguishable, noncommittal noise.

"…before that Delacour girl came along."

Harry's mind cleared instantly at Fleur's name. He knew where this was going.

"Fleur is my Alpha, Lavender." The veela felt her heart sink. Lavender couldn't believe she was thinking of doing this; of actually speaking in the comtesse's favor. But if it meant saving the life of Harry's girlfriend, then she was willing to swallow her own pride.

"Fleur is young and inexperienced. I think Comtesse de Noire would be much more suited…"

"No. Fleur is my Alpha, Lavender." Was Harry's firm rebuttal.

"But…"

"The answer is 'NO'." The entire room literally shook at the force of Harry's words. The tone of voice demanded just one thing; obedience, absolute and unconditional obedience. Everyone, including the comtesse, was momentarily frozen in silence. Lavender quivered in excitement, feeling adrenaline and hormones shoot through her entire body.

Thinking that he was finished, Harry tried to roll the soaking wet girl on him away, but Lavender resisted. She had no choice now, she had to act.

"Lavender…"

"I'm sorry, Harry. I really am. I just…I just had to at least try." Lavender wept, nuzzling against him like a stricken puppy. Never one to enjoy the sight of a crying lady, Harry hesitantly reached over and hugged her.

"I understand." He muttered, thinking that this must be what Fleur said about veela and their sexual aggression. For minutes, Harry held the poor girl. Gently, he ran a hand through strands of long blonde hair, enjoying the moans of pleasure it elicited. There's something very nice about comforting a beautiful sexy girl. But all of a sudden, Lavender seemed to quake.

"What's the matter, Lav?"

The veela took one deep gulp of air and sighed. Raising her tear stained face, she looked Harry in the eye.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Please understand that I really am. I tried, I really did try." The girl looked like a crying wreck.

"It's alright, I said I understand."

"It's not for that…" Off the corner of her eyes, Lavender saw the others move.

"It's for this." The veela's movement was almost instantaneous.

Harry's eyeballs diluted instantly as blood rushed into his mouth. The veela had little trouble in pulling apart the dazed male veela's limbs and locking them physically and magically in place. Left eagle spread, Harry caught sight of the instrument protruding vertically from his torso. It was the handle of an elegant dagger. But it wasn't just any dagger, it was Lavender's purple dagger whose teeth end was fully buried in his abdomen. Rivers of blood gushed forth from the wound.

Harry jerked involuntarily as five sets of hands pressed against the handle of the blade.

"_Let us who act as one, summon forth strength,"_

"_Let he who is the one, accept our donation,"_

"… _of blood and power…"_

The male veela trashed and foundered, straining furtively against his binds. Groans emitted from his bruised body while tainted blood splashed everywhere. But it wasn't red, it was black, all black…

"_Let force and will be our arbiter,"_

"_Let force and will be our diviner,"_

"_Let force and will bind the one that was unbindable." _

"_Tame his soul," _

"_Tame his heart,"_

"_Tame that roaring, raging **beast**!" _

Time stopped as Harry felt, not a thousand, but a million knives stab into his heart. He felt his entire body taken over by alien inhospitable forces; his most sacred and inalienable regions defiled; his very essence violated by the taint of evermore darkness; and his fiery burning soul slowly but inexorably extinguished by cold foreign fingers.

"No…" Darkness, betrayal, who, why… Broken shattered thoughts ran into one another.

"I am so sorry, Harry." The immobilized male veela barely noticed Lavender bending down to kiss his cheek. But he was conscious enough to make one connection which he burned forever into his mind: Lavender and traitor.

Her and her veela associates; their honeyed words, their sensuous bodies, their seductive overtures; lies, all lies. And he fell for them, hook, line and sinker! The beast crashed against the sterile cage erected around him. It could not be.

But it was. The blood the veela had injected into Lavender's blade was successfully penetrating Harry's entire anatomy, poisoning, polluting, corrupting, negating whatever innate defense the male veela tried to muster.

"It'll be ok soon. You'll be happy… again… soon…with us."

The solemn Lavender Brown rose, and the comtesse, with an entirely too cheerful smile, gave the command.

"Let's make this bad boy ours." The five veela stretched out crushed their presence against the last strongholds of Harry's individuality and freedom, his bond with Regine and the Alpha bond with Fleur. But if these girls were expecting a quick victory, they were very wrong, dead wrong.

"NO!" Two of the veela were literally thrown back.

"He's resisting!" Bloody hell yes. Harry Potter was not going down without a fight!

"With what! We control almost every part of him." Looks of awe were exchanged. It took the veela ten minutes to get back into position and reestablish their weakened hold on the fiercely struggling male veela.

"I said five wasn't enough." Lavender commented. Instead of answering, the furious comtesse pulled away and brought to bare a magical mirror. The mirror split into two halves, each with an image of the two veela, who towed Harry's girls away, both looking slightly worse for wear, appeared.

"The quarter veela and her friend. Are they still even conscious?" Two weak nods. More looks were exchanged.

"Of course, their bond with the male veela is sustaining them." All of a sudden, the comtesse's face twisted into the shape of a sinister smile.

"Kill them…"

"…Kill them now and get back here. It appears that we will require your help." Neither veela seemed thrilled about their task, but made no show of complaining.

"Yes, ma'am." The two images answered crisply before flickering out of existence.

"No." Gasped the sad, dilapidated shell of Harry Potter. He was so weak and tired. Voices urged him to rest, rest so that when he woke all, all would be well.

'_No, no, no. Must resist…' _Harry resisted the temptation as the beast within him let loose one final roar.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The burst of magic that erupted out of the male veela engulfed all five conspiring veela in a mushrooming cloud of violently released magical power.

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**Translation: **

**Intercido **– To cut asunder, to demolish, destroy

**Concremo Plurimus** – To burn very many (times)

**Une guérisseuse, vite** – A healer, quick.

**Mon dieu**– My god

**C'est si bon** – This is so good

**Une Haute Veela**– High veela (literally) pure/full veela, one who possesses all of the distinguishable attributes and abilities of the veela species.

**Arrete! Je t'aime comme une soeur** – Stop! I love you like a sister.

**Alea iacta est** – Latin: the die has been cast/the die is cast: Julius Caesar reportedly said this as he crossed the Rubicon River in 49 BC with his legions, effectively declaring war against Rome.

**AN:** Ok, for those who think Harry is being too dumb, please hold on to your knickers. I'm pretty sure you people will be more than pleased with Harry in the next chapter. Just hope you aren't too grossed out. ;)


	13. Fury of the Veela Part I

**Rating:** M for swearing, violence and death.

**Posted: 5/19/2006**

**Betas: Yogert, Lord Sivart**

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**Chapter 13: Fury of the Veela (Part I)**

"'arry." Fleur's eyes glazed over. In an instant, the Alpha bond flooded her mind and heart with unimaginable pain and sorrow. The part veela instinctively rolled to the side, narrowly missing her veela lover's downward plunging short sword.

The Delacour girl stared at the scene wide eyed. Then, the dam broke, as the full fury and anger of the male veela was channeled into his Alpha. Her form instantly morphed from that of a beautiful part veela human to a vengeful avian demoness.

"Argh!" With a surge of inhuman strength and lightning fast reflexes, Fleur backhanded her lover turned would be assassin across the face, drawing blood and snapping her neck and torso around. Then, the possessed part veela released a gigantic fireball at the other veela's naked unprotected back. Caught completely off guard, the other girl had only a moment to feel the sting of being slugged before she felt her flesh being burned off her back. The veela howled in pain as 3rd degree burns instantly ran across her naked pristine skin.

She was battered and maimed, but hardly defeated. Fleur had to veer wildly to avoid a retaliatory fireball. Across the battered room, two naked blonde veela traded fireballs, fighting the catfight of all catfights.

Finally, a stray shot clipped Fleur's arm, leaving a burn mark and forcing her back. As Fleur tripped over her own discarded pile of clothes, she looked up to see her opponent bounce off the bed and towards her with the sword short held at an arm's length.

Harry's Alpha's eyes flashed with deep righteous anger. She fingered the wand lying on the ground and brought it to bear just as her enemy's sharp sword arced towards her.

No! She refused to believe this was how it would end. Summoning forth strength which she didn't know she had, Fleur's lips uttered a spell she heard before but was never able to cast. Into that one spell, she focused all her rage and energy the bond with Harry was feeding her.

"**_Intercido!"_** The other veela didn't have a prayer's chance to dodge at this close of a range. The beam of light slammed into her, right between the bosoms.

For one single moment, the charging veela was suspended in mid air, her pristine young face contorted into a humorous look of surprise. Then the moment was gone and the look changed to one of horror and then pain as the spell shredded her upper chest. Blood and flesh splashed across the white beddings and linens and Fleur's pale skin. The knock back force of the spell was so strong that the charging veela was hurled straight out the window. The part veela had a look of utter astonishment as her enemy plunged to a harrowing death.

A blood mired Fleur stood dazed moments later bathing in surrealism. The slaughter had taken a matter of seconds; seconds for her, the floor and the bed to be painted in the red blood of her late lover. She ran a hand through her luscious blonde - now red-blonde - mane only to pull off chunks of veela flesh.

Fleur felt like she was going to be sick. But before she could puke waves of pain and anxiety rolled over her. The veela clutched a hand over her heart.

"'arry! Regine!" Fleur's pain laced blue eyes widened with horror.

'_No… please no…!'_ Fear for the safety of her loved ones quickly overpowered the girl's personal emotional turmoil. Steeling herself, Fleur quickly wiped herself clean and conjured a fresh set of robes on her body.

Clutching her wand tightly against her, the part veela flew out of the room. As much as she wanted to rush to her master's aid, the part veela instinctively knew that she stood no chance if all seven of the veela had been part of this. She needed to free her friend first.

Turning to the room where she had seen Regine being pulled into, Fleur leveled her wand.

"_**Maximus Reducto!"**_

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Rescuing Regine had been a simple matter. The veela assigned to the human girl had been so intent on preparing the coup de grace blow that Fleur managed to take her by complete surprise. Of course, getting Regine out was another matter. After leaving the would-be-assassin temporarily indisposed on the ground, Fleur had to drag her half naked and dazed friend out the door. It wasn't until mentioning that they still had to "save 'arry" that Fleur managed to pull her friend out of wonderland.

"Is this it?" Asked a gasping Regine, stopping before a doorway with two oversized oak doors.

Fleur nodded solemnly. She could feel Harry's desperate struggles waning behind the closed doors. On a silent count of three, the two girls blasted the door open and charged into the room. What they saw made their blood boil.

Harry Potter, their beloved mate, laid writhing in agony struggling against his five agitated captors. Blood, black blood, which clearly belonged to him, splattered everywhere. His girls were appalled by the ghastly imagery that portrayed their lord and master lying like some hapless prey waiting to be butchered by the bird predators gathered around him.

"**_Intercido!" _**

"**_Crucio!"_** Understandably, several veela leapt away from the two curses. But at the same time, they relinquished the magic pressure they were exerting on the struggling male veela. The five veela were still recovering from the powerful magical blowback Harry had unleashed moments earlier. When the girls burst in, this distraction provided the male veela with the chance to make his escape.

"No!" Cried the Comtesse. Too late.

Using his newly freed arm, Harry flung a bolt of raw magic at his closest target. The wide-eyed veela caught the magic burst straight in chest and was slammed into a wall ten feet away. With a groan of pain, she slumped deposited unceremoniously to the ground.

The remaining veela immediately retaliated with a volley of petrifying curses, but Harry was quicker. Injured as he was, the young man managed to roll himself off the bed. Harry wand flew into his outstretched hand as he crawled away. Handy little thing wandless magic was. Shame that he wasn't yet experienced enough to do the more complex spells. The veela adjusted and fired again.

'_Oh no, you don't.'_ Even in his dilapidated condition, the male veela was strong enough to conjure a gigantic slab of frozen ice, which absorbed all four spells. Then in rapid succession, Harry cast a powerful slicing curse and an exploder, right at the slab of ice. The frozen ice block exploded into a shower of sharpeners. In that same instant, Harry used a wind current to direct the bulk of the sharpeners away from him… and towards his tormentors. Shrieks and blood filled the air as the nude veela were set upon by a hail of ice missiles.

Amidst the chaos, Fleur and Regine pulled their battered mate out of the room.

"'arry! Vat 'av they done to you?"

Harry only groaned in response. He most certainly didn't need to be told he looked like shit. Ignoring his girls' looks of horrified revulsion, Harry pulled Lavender's dagger out of his abdomen. It was unbelievably painful. At least with the cruciatus curse one could rationalize that the pain wasn't real. Here, Harry could literally feel his own blood, his own essence oozing out of his gaping wound on the floor.

The girls gently lowered him onto the cold marble floor. Regine conjured him some clothing while Fleur performed some complex healing charm to seal off his wound. It wasn't enough.

"Stay with us, Harry, please!"

Harry tried to focus on Regine's voice but was too dizzy to do so. For a moment, the young man thought for sure that he was going to kick the bucket. Having survived all those attempts by Voldemort to off him, including the latest stint at his late night rebirth party, having cut loose from Dumbledore, he, Harry Potter, was going to die…here in France, after sampling hot wild sex with some indigenous beauties.

Doesn't life just suck?

The entire affair seemed so acrimoniously stupid that … well, Harry barked out in laughter. His girls pulled away in shock, thinking that surely their love had gone insane.

"Oh… that _bloody_ Lavender. If only I could get my hands on her _bloody_ scrawny neck…" Harry moaned.

'_Wait a second!'_ Harry turned towards his girls, watching as their tears dripped from their anguish suffused faces.

'_I feel fine again!'_ Indeed, the feeling of drowsiness was gone. Harry felt the looming cold embrace of Hades leaving him and replaced with warmth and love flooding his body from across the bond he shared with the girls; their very presence seemed to heal him. It was just as Thanatos had said; a male veela could draw upon the strength and energy of his bonded mates. Harry just didn't expect it to be so literal.

"Girls. I'm ok!" Fleur and Regine watched with astonishment as their Harry miraculously rose from between the jaws of death. With twin squeals of joy, the two blondes assaulted Harry with hugs and kisses.

A volley of curses soared overhead, reducing the walls around them to splinters.

"Shit. Go for the main entrance. GO!" The girls wanted to rebel, but Harry's commanding gaze brooked no protest. The girls gave their mate one last loving embrace before high tailing down the hallway. Harry turned towards the five bloodied, but dressed veela charging at him and pointed his wand at the ceiling above the door way.

"**_Maximus Reducto! Explodora!_** **_Pyro Destructum!"_**

The entire building shook as if under the effect of a magnitude 7 earthquake. Gigantic boulders of stone and marble tumbled from the ceiling covering the doorway that separated Harry from his assaulters. Harry stayed just long enough to see the veela set up shield charms and back away from the rain of broken concrete.

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"Harry!" A human blonde missile grabbed Harry into a bear hug as he sprinted into the large atrium-like chamber. The ceiling was at least eighty feet high and supported by giant pillars on all sides. The gigantic doors leading to freedom stood at one end.

"Regine, why haven't you left? We need to escape this place."

"Ve would 'av if ve could." Answered Fleur solemnly. Harry released half a dozen blasting and exploding curses at the obstinate timber. Other than a couple of deep scorch marks, there was no effect.

"Shit. Bloody wards. We don't have the time to take them down."

"We need to get out through one of the side rooms." Suggested Regine, but they had no time to try that out. The side doors slammed shut with advanced magic before the group took even two steps. Harry and his girls had their backs to the door as several forms appeared at the other end of the chamber. Six veela, decked out in collections of tight, form fitting battle tunics stood arrayed against them.

'_Bloody hell.'_

"I suggest that you and your girls stand down, my lord." Commanded the Comtesse de Noire.

"Leave us alone, you disgusting whore! I dropped one of yourz out the window momentz ago." Commanded Fleur in what sounded like an intimidating voice.

Regine gaped at her friend. Harry blinked in surprise. Fleur, the pretty dainty French high-class flower, just killed someone? And admitted to the deed with a straight face? Clearly this particular girl did not appreciate being the target of an assassination attempt and having her lover stolen. On the other hand, the revelation that this untrained quarter veela took down one of their numbers seemed equally shocking. All the veela suddenly seemed just slightly less confident… all except the comtesse that is.

Harry easily sensed the storm of emotions raging beneath Fleur calm exterior. And based on how that sinister veela comtesse was smirking, he wasn't the only one.

"You got lucky, little girl." Commented the comtesse with ease. "We still outnumber you 2 to 1 and you know I can beat you and your friend. Do you expect your mate to defeat my remaining five unassisted?"

"You should have taken care of Sabine when you had the chance. It would have evened the odds a bit more in your favor." The comtesse stated calmly while glaring at the veela whom Fleur managed to surprise. "… perhaps not much but at least it would have been something."

The comtesse clearly held the girl personally responsible for allowing herself to be caught off guard. The half-blood veela named Sabine squared her jaw, but otherwise did not react to this brutal verbal attack.

Harry's girls were less controlled in displaying their emotions. Fleur flushed red with anger and horror while Regine was appalled by the callousness of the veela's commander's words. Harry himself was at a loss for words. So instead, he chose to act, by dropping into one of the most imposing and intimidating combat stances Thanatos talked about. Whatever reaction he was expecting, laughter was not one of them.

Blanche de Noire gave a command in French and in one single fluid motion, the six veela took up a pre-arranged combat formation: The Comtesse and Lavender at the front in a normal, defensive center position; the four other veela were arrayed half a step behind them with wands drawn in forward aggressive positions, much like a string of stalking tigresses.

"Thanatos is one of our most revered high lords. So you have his personal diary, how interesting…" Here the comtesse's gaze bore into Fleur. "…but by no means is his knowledge unknown to us."

'_Shit!'_ That was the exact replica of one of the combat formations Thanatos talked about.

Harry recognized the message. His greatest asset in a fight, the knowledge Thanatos's Diary held, was compromised. Whatever he learned from his predecessor, these veela most likely learned better and had the perfect counters.

But, wait, Harry had another asset: Voldemort's extensive knowledge of the dark arts. That, he was willing to bet, was something they didn't know.

'_They still won't be enough.'_ Harry realized he needed tactics as well. But Voldemort's tactics were completely blasé if not none existent. Basically they were a combination of crushing the enemy with overwhelming magical force and deploying a numerically superior support force, neither of which Harry had. He needed to buy some time to improvise.

"You know about the male veela. You know nothing about me."

"What you are defines who you are. And we know exactly what you are. We know exactly how your body works, how it receives signals, how it perceives dangers and how to deceive its sensors and alleviate its suspicions."

On the one hand, Harry's plan to waste time worked; on the other, the young male veela was unable to keep the horror of that revelation from showing, not entirely at least.

"It was us that created the sense of anger and mistrust between you and your Alpha. Well, rather your dear Lavender here did. She knew you best, how to nullify _your_ veela charm while affecting you with _hers_."

Harry bit back his retort, settling for a merciless glare at his classmate instead. Lavender's eyes met his accusing emerald ones. Sorrow seemed to flash beneath their brown depth before being suppressed. Harry tightened his wand grip feeling his fingers dig into the skin on his palm. _'So that's the way it's going to be.'_

"And I assume you do not yet know how to control your veela induced lusts, much less our bonds. That is why you barely manage to keep us from taking you over using the bond." Harry slammed another layer of mental shields on top of the post-coital bonds that was formed between him and the five traitorous veela. He cursed himself for not realizing that the veela bonds ran both ways.

Harry shuddered at the memory of what they did to him, when they tried to destroy his free will and imprison his soul. Thanatos's dire warning that even bonded veela '_can enslave you to fates worse than death_' flashed through his mind.

"You bitch." Fleur and Regine felt themselves shiver at the complete lack of empathy in their lover's words. But that was all he said as he closed up like a porcupine. But while Harry had moved beyond human emotions, his girls had not.

"Why?" Fleur crocked; desperation and hurt clear in her voice. How could her own people trick her, lie to her and even try to kill her like this? For a moment, several of the veela including Lavender seemed touched and unsure. But the moment quickly passed.

"Your human friend was collateral damage." Adding insult to injury, Comtesse de Noire didn't even bother to look at Regine when she spoke. But she did turn to address Fleur.

"You were his Alpha, which was unacceptable. We had to remove you." The elder veela's words cool and detached as if she was talking about some unpleasant chore as opposed to killing someone.

"Oh don't look so surprised Ms. Delacour. How was it that you propositioned to your master, yourself? Did you ask him to mate with you or did you take a more aggressive route?"

The blonde girl's bright blue eyes widened in realization. She recalled the way she attacked him with claws and fire, and with every intention of taking him by rape if necessary. For a brief moment, Fleur felt shame creep up her soul before she felt a light nudge through the bond. She turned to see Harry giving her the tiniest of headshakes. The part veela nodded in understanding. Now wasn't the time for her to feel self-deprecation.

"We take what we want, what we feel we need and desire to have. It's in the nature of the veela. It is also part of who we are and what we are. I'm surprised you didn't recognize that but that's understandable given who your mother was."

"My muzzer?"

"… was one of us, one of the best in fact until she decided that she had enough. She quit, left our community and cut off all ties." The smug smile dropped from Blanche's face.

"You would have made a fine addition to our community but alas your mother clearly didn't want you to know about your heritage." Clearly in this case, Fleur's ignorance of her species' ways was not bliss.

"I told him to accept you. We would have left otherwise." Shouted the furious and horrified Fleur. "This is how YOU repay us!"

Blanche couldn't help but smile at the irony.

"Very well, then, I shall make the following proposition: We spare your girls' lives, my lord, in exchange for your Alpha relinquishing her status to us."

"_Never! _Over my dead body, _salope_!" Fleur jumped to answer, splattering in rage. It was the last straw for this part veela. She didn't transform, but she did take on the image and force of a demonic bird bent on revenge. Her eyes flashed with anger and her wand was raised high above her.

"That's not your choice to make." Was the calm, cool retort.

The part veela swallowed her most unlady-like retort and turned to her master for guidance and support.

Harry, however, was caught between a rock and a hard place. He found plenty of spells he could use; dark and nasty ones. But he came up blank in terms of an effective strategy that would not only defeat the enemy but also protect his girls.

'_We could win but at what cost?'_ Fleur, though being the weaker fighter, would be at least somewhat protected by the Alpha bond; Regine would not. And if Harry were to decide to stand down, Regine would walk away with nothing more than a bruised ego. She, of all of them, had the most to lose.

Of course, there was the possibility that the comtesse was lying which would make his current dilemma moot. But… what if it wasn't. How would his Alpha feel if they won the fight at the cost of her friend's death; a death that seemed very likely if they fight and equally unlikely if they don't?

As if sensing his troubled thoughts, Regine interjected with a statement of her own: a very loud, clear and active statement. Catching Harry's turbulent eyes, the beautiful girl gave him a significant look and then jumped beside her friend.

Now, _that_ was loyalty.

Heads held high, chest puffed out, the two blonde lovelies presented a truly glorious and formidable sight to behold. Harry couldn't help but smile and feel something akin to pride rising out of him. Win or lose, they at least stood together as one.

Harry took a moment to compose himself. Desperation had apparently fostered for him a daring plan. Since the veela were expecting him to use Thanatos's tactics, then what if he logically decided to use the one plan the old veela specifically advised against? What if he decided to have no plan and improvise on the fly?

It would be suicidal, of course, but it could also provide him with the advantage of surprise. Harry Potter would charge into battle like a Gryffindor, but then hopefully terrorize the veela by fighting like the Dark Lord. After all, if there was one thing Voldemort knew how to do, it was terror. (The guy practically got off on that stuff)

"You should listen to _'my'_ Alpha, your ladyship." Remarked Harry with set expressions. The male veela backed up his response by raising his wand in perfect imitation of a Soresu defensive stance. Wearing a half-silly, half sadistic grin, Harry used his other hand to make a mocking 'come get some' gesture.

Several of the veela tightened their grips on their wands. Comtesse de Noire allowed only the faintest trace of a twitch to appear on her face.

"So be it. But do remember that I will not be making this offer a second time." The comtesse tilted her head at Harry's girls while looking him straight in the eye.

The male veela growled at this blatant threatening gesture as the tip of his wand charged with magic.

And the battle was on.

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"**_Stupefy!"_** Harry's aim was true as the spell impacted against his opponent. But to his surprise, the veela wasn't blasted away. Instead she stumbled, caught herself before she tripped and fired a curse of her own back. Harry cursed mentally as he evaded the piercing spell.

'_Damn it!'_ It was like these girls were immune to magic. Harry grunted as three curses smashed against his shield. The orange hexagonal shield buckled, flicking slightly but held. The young man mentally patted himself on the book. He was now very glad for having taken the time to master that mage level absorption shield just days ago.

'_At least the girls are safe.' _Harry thought wearily as he took note of Fleur and Regine, who kept their distance from the main battle while trying to help out. Even so, an occasional light curse did get through. He heard Regine's yell of desperation followed by Fleur's soul wrenching cry of pain. Harry turned to see a shivering Fleur lying on her side with her friend standing protectively in front of her.

The male veela felt his blood boil. He traced the attacker, raised his wand and …

"**_Crucio!" _**

The Unforgivable Curse caught a perpetrator of the act dead center in the chest. The veela instinctively cried out as she dropped to her knees and started convulsing in pain. But almost instantly she managed to stifle her scream. The male veela, his mind clouded with battle lust and fury, pushed more power into the curse. A malicious sneer was plated to his countenance as he watched the girl withering silently on the ground, flopping about like a fish on land.

Harry's sense of cruel satisfaction didn't last however. He dropped the curse as a cutter streaked across his face, having missed giving him a facelift by mere millimeters.

Three more powerful blasters forced Harry to retreat. Out of the corners of his eyes, he watched the veela he had targeted rise under her own power. She stood rather unsteadily at first, but seemed to have regained her groove within seconds. In less than a minute, she was back in the fight. Except for a very slight limp and the perspiration covering her body, she looked unscathed.

'_Bloody hell. She threw off my cruciatus like it was nothing!'_ Harry noted with awe, but then he backtracked to the word after 'my' and his heart jumped.

'_My cruciatus…'_ The cold unforgiving rage boiling inside of him gave away to something else; something foul, laced with disgust.

'_I cast an Unforgivable!' _But whatever other feelings Harry might have experienced, what ended up dominating his senses was pain; half a dozen cursed were gunning toward him while he was off in his own little world. He saw them far too late to avoid. Fortunately, he still had his absorption shield. Unfortunately it only held against the first four curses; the fifth one utterly obliterated it and the six one caught him squarely in the belly, propelling him backwards. Harry bounced off one of the massive pillars like a rag doll.

Whatever remorse, guilt or shame Harry might have felt were all subsequently crushed. The male veela in roared back to life with an obliteration blasting curse, which sent the veela scurrying.

'_What are they, playing games with me!'_ Something told Harry that if these flirty, gorgeous little vile succubi actually decided to go all out, he would be dead. But what the bloody fuck was he supposed to do when they could throw off a fully charged 'crucio'? Painstakingly he maneuvered to acquire positions of strength before unleashing a variety of high levels curses, from bone shattering curses to neural-neutralizers and energy bombs. Nothing seemed to work or work as well as he wanted or needed them to work. And what's even worse, veela were apparently immune to legillimency, which meant he had no way of predicating their attacks.

'_These girls aren't human.'_ Of course, that assessment wasn't exactly ground breaking. They were veela after all. But Harry suspected that no one in the wizarding world public knew just how un-human these pretty blondes were.

"**_Conseco!"_** In anger with not a small touch of annoyance, Harry fired off a red curse at the petite form of one of the little minxes who was darting for his girls. He hadn't expected much; maybe just distract her from attacking his lovers at most. After all, if all his other spells had almost no effect, what could a little cutting curse do?

Quite a lot apparently. The little cutting curse dug into the veela's side, drawing forth blood and causing her to stumble.

'_That's it!' _

"Fleur! Regine! Use physical damagers!" Yelled Harry inarticulately, but his girls were smart and figured out the meaning. They fired off two slicing curses at the veela who was charging at them. She blocked one with a shield but was caught in the leg by the other. She tumbled to the ground with a shriek. A series of spells forced Harry and his girls into evasive maneuvers before they could finish her off.

But Harry knew now.

'_Of course!'_ Harry slapped himself in the head for forgetting. Amongst the veela's list of attributes was its body's inherent resistance to pure magic. Thanatos had mentioned that with training a veela body's magic resistance could be built up to be as powerful as that of a lesser dragon.

It just happened that Harry and his girls were used to fighting with magic based spells. Curses like cutters and slicers, however, weren't purely magic based. They included a bit of creative transfiguration to form tiny sharp edges of air that were propelled forward by magic to literally cut the surface of targets. The nature of the battle became steadily more gruesome as Harry and his girls unleashed volleys of physical damagers, sending the veela ducking for cover. The veela retreated, momentarily of course, but Harry had no intention of giving them the opportunity to recover.

"Smoke, ladies!" His girls complied by firing what amounted to be smoke bombs into the enemy.

As for Harry; the male veela decided that he just about had it with these traitors

"**_Magnus Pyro Destructum!"_** Harry repeated the spell three times. Seconds later, the entire other side of the chamber seemingly exploded in a cataclysm of flame and stone. One of the spells impacted one of the pillars and obliterated the lower five feet of the huge support beam. The three or so meters of the beam above it subsequently cracked and crashed to the floor, kicking up a thick cloud of debris and smoke.

Harry leaned against a pillar nearby for support while panting with exhaustion. Damn, that took more out of him than he thought. He definitely needed more practice to build up his magical stamina.

"Did you get them?" Regine's wary voice called out hopefully. Harry frowned.

'_Unlikely.'_ Several jets of light coming out of the fog confirmed Harry's suspicion. His girls immediately retaliated by shooting spells randomly into the smoke. But Harry remained waiting while lightly fingering the bloodied blade strapped to his side. He had kept it after pulling it from his body thinking that it might come in handy sometime.

That sometime came as a single figure stumbled out of the smoke.

Perfect.

Harry withdrew the short blade, laced it with the appropriate charms and held it in his left hand by the hilt.

"**_Intercido!"_**

As predicated, the veela immediately reacted to the spell by ducking to the side… right into the path of his second curse.

"**_Imperio!"_** While an AK would have sealed the deal, the killing curse was also god awfully slow. Harry needed a curse that was fast and would pass through most shields.

He then gave a flick from his left wrist, sending the blade to chase after his second curse. The Unforgivable passed cleanly through a moderately powerful but standard shielding charm, catching the surprised girl in the neck. Harry sneered as he felt the veela fought viciously and successfully against his control. It was his first try after all. The girl yelled into the air as she shook him off.

No matter, it was too late.

The flying blade had been augmented with a tracer and a propulsion charm so that it followed the trajectory of the impervious curse. The veela's head snapped backwards as the first three inches of the weapon buried itself inside her pale slender neck.

So the weapon that the predators had intended for the imprisonment of their prey was wielded by said prey against the predators. As the saying goes 'what goes around, comes around.'

The girl's bloody gurgle was almost instantly cut off as her vocal chord was severed, along with most primary blood vessels in the jugular. She dropped to the ground with a dull thud; the wand in her hand rolling useless on the ground that was soon smeared with her life essence.

At the same time, one of the veela finally cast a fanning charm, clearing away the smoke that was obstructing to their vision. A hush silence descended as the five standing veela took in the sight of the unmoving body of their fallen comrade.

Harry's girls were also momentarily stunned into silence. The sight of seeing a near human girl their age lying in a pool of her own blood was a frightening and jarring experience.

Harry, himself, was rocked by waves of unimaginable pain as he felt one of the connections linking him to his girls disappear. Only his unwillingness to look weak kept him from breaking down in tears as he felt a piece of his soul being ripped out.

"Give this up NOW, comtesse! We don't have to keep fighting like this." Harry somehow managed to ground the words out while holding a posture of intimidation.

"If you believe that, then you already lost." Comtesse de Noire's reply lacked the humor from before, but was still spoken in a disturbingly calm manner.

"That took quite a bit out of you didn't it, my lord? Care to make a bet for surviving that a second time?"

Harry was unable to school his face into a neutral expression fast enough.

She wouldn't DARE! Oh but she dared.

Blanche smiled in a serene, dark and freaky kind of way as she pointed her wand to the side, right at Gwen. At first, the girl blinked at the unexpected threatening gesture in surprise. But instead of challenging her sadistic superior, which was Harry's feverish hope, the once lively girl kept her wand by her side and lowered her head in submission.

Harry rolled back in aghast, his breath catching in his throat. His girls were at first very confused, but gradually they caught on. They shared the bond with him after all and they must also sense even if they could not feel the gaping hole Harry had inside of him.

The sadistic bitch only smiled as she watched horror of realization dawned upon Fleur and Regine, who realized they weren't the only ones bonded to the male veela. Four of the remaining five opposing veela were also magically bonded to Harry, who still reeling from the after shocks of having just one of those bonds severed. At this point, if another one was violently cut before Harry had a chance to recover…

Truly, the comtesse was beyond sick for even considering such a ghastly 'plan' (if it could be even called that). But at the same time, it was also an ingenious strategy as there wasn't a single thing Harry or his girls could do to defend against it. So was the comtesse a maniac or a genius for thinking of such a thing? Or maybe she was a bit of both?

In any case, Blanche de Noire did not carry out the dastardly deed of offing her most trusted lieutenant. Lavender stepped forward, placing herself between the comtesse's wand her and its target. She looked at Gwen, looked at the dead body lying on the ground, and then looked at Blanche. A silent agreement seemingly was reached as the comtesse lowered her wand, while Lavender raised hers, this time at Harry and his girls.

Harry felt a sense of dread spreading across his body. He knew in his heart of hearts that something was going to go wrong.

Lavender barked something out at the veela named Sabine. She had a short exchange with the comtesse before she turned to face Fleur, fixing the part veela with a cool glare.

"I suggest you defend yourself." Comtesse de Noire then advised, in that annoying serene voice of hers.

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**Translation:**

**Intercido** –****To cut asunder, to demolish, destroy

**Salope** – Whore

**Conseco** – To cut up


	14. Fury of the Veela Part II

**Rating:** WARNING, WARNING, WARNING! This chapter is rated **M** (capital and bold **M**) for swearing, allusions to sex and most importantly **very EXTREME **and **very** **graphic depictions of violence**.

**Posted: 5/19/2006**

**Betas: Yogert, Lord Sivart**

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**Chapter 14: Fury of the Veela (Part II)**

The veela attack came very quickly.

Lavender and Sabine cut horizontally across the chamber before surging forward from opposing flanking positions. At the same time, under the cover of a steady barrage of curses from the stationary comtesse, Gwen and another veela grew gigantic sets of wings and took to the sky.

Harry recognized the tactic easily enough. The veela were going to corner them with their superior numbers in a coordinated attack from all sides. He was quite sure that he would not like results if they were allowed to succeed.

Harry motioned Fleur and Regine to aim for the runners as he gunned for the comtesse. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Sabine tumble on the ground after running right into a path triangulated blaster from Regine while trying to dodge Fleur's pummeling curse. The implementation of the maneuver made Harry think that they had learned that tactic just moments ago from when he took down that first veela.

The male veela smiled, feeling himself exuding a glowing sense of pride at 'his' girls. Though he suspected that Sabine's inability to raise a proper defense shield might have contributed to his girls' success.

Harry turned to his own battle. He sliced his wand through the air forcefully with a swish sound, turning the comtesse's angry blue spell back at her while unleashing one of his own. If that didn't keep her distracted for a while, then the two medium level annihilation class curses that followed immediately after definitely did.

Without missing a beat, Harry switched target and began tunnel visioning the two high flying aerial veela just as they began a diving run. Knowing that their speed made it incredibly difficult to track, he settled for a simple, almost harmless, jinx which he could throw out in silence, in both hands and in quick succession. The idea was to distract rather than to hurt, and it worked perfectly. The two veela swerved about wildly causing the spells that were aimed at Harry's girls to fly wide by at least a couple of feet. He followed with a pair of more powerful curses.

"**_Subseco! Subseco!"_**

Gwen folded her wings to allow the two curses to pass both sides of her. But her friend was not so nimble. The spells slammed into the frames supporting two of the wings, knocking out a pillow's worth of feathers. The veela cried in pain as she immediately lost altitude and started swerving wildly to regain control. Gwen bailed from a planned counterattack to help her ally. Harry turned to the last member of the five-veela strike team… Lavender Brown.

Lavender Brown…fighting? Oh what a laughable concept. Heck, Harry would be laughing had it not been a life or death situation. Of all the students at Hogwarts, Harry thought Lavender was the one least likely to do something so 'icky' as fighting. Heck, she was the one least likely to do anything that wasn't related to divination, gossip or boys.

Harry found it rather startling to connect this fiercely determined veela charging at his girls head on to that brainless gossiper from his year. It just didn't make any sense…

"_**Reducto!"**_

"**_Conseco!"_** Harry thought Lavender had lost this round when Regine's reducto curse instantly vaporized her shield. (Damn, that girl sure knew her spells and curses) The veela would have to back off, Harry reasoned… provided that she wanted to avoid Fleur's cutting curse. But Lavender had no intention of halting her offense. She took the hit in the shoulder without batting an eye or slowing down.

Surprised but determined to hold their ground, Fleur and Regine immediately sent off a second volley consisting of two disarming spells. Now, the charging veela would '_have_' to back away or risk being blasted off while losing her wand. She chose neither; Lavender voluntarily dropped her wand. The spells impacted her harmlessly as she continued onwards.

'_Oh…'_ Harry had a really bad feeling about this.

Still sprinting, Lavender crossed her arms into the folds of her skirt and withdrew two shimmering daggers.

'_Shit!'_ Harry's wand swung forward, but it was already too late. Lavender was literally in front of Fleur before anyone could react.

The veela slashed upwards with both arms.

Harry watched in horrific slow motion as his Alpha screamed and fell backwards while sprouting a non-trivial quantity of blood from her chest.

"NOOOOO!"

Having drawn blood, the veela then wheeled towards her other target. But the French prefect had no intention of passively allowing herself to be gutted by this shorty. Stepping forward first, Regine successfully checked both of the veela's wrists before they could bring the daggers to bear. But alas she forgot about the legs. Lavender kneed the taller girl…hard, sending Regine reeling in pain. A female might lack a male's particular family jewel, but being kneed in the crotch was still being kneed in the crotch.

Without missing a beat, Lavender gave the daggers a light toss and caught both in a dual reverse grip, perfect for making a twin swipe at an enemy's jugular. Sensing what was coming, Regine crossed her arms in front of her neck and face. Lavender slashed diagonally upwards drawing forth deep bloody gushes from Regine's wrists.

Splattered blood covered both aggressor and defendant. The human girl howled in agony, rage, and disbelief as tears filled her eyes. The only way she could have possibly held back that blood-curdling scream was if her throat was slit, which was exactly what her attacker seemed intent to do. Lavender's arms moved and the blades shimmered … for perhaps the last time. But Regine knew she didn't have the strength to mount another defense in time.

"Duck!" The human blonde instantly dropped to the ground upon her master's forceful command. A moderately powerful blasting curse shot over her, right into Lavender. But the veela was only thrown backwards rather than blasted into smithereens, which was the spell's caster original intent.

'_Bloody hell!'_ Harry thought in fury. The fucking bitch somehow cast a wandless shield charm.

"_**Diffindo!" **_

"**_Multiplicibus Reducto!"_** Taking the hint, a limping and wandless Lavender beat a hasty withdrawal while an enraged male veela plunged the areas around him into a complex network of mirages and dark hidden zones. Hopefully that would keep the veela occupied for a while.

"'arry?" His Alpha's hesitant call pulled Harry from wayward thoughts of vengeance. Keeping an eye on his surrounding, he kneeled down to check on his lover.

Harry felt his heart clinch shut as he took in the sight of his alpha; battered and bruised with two disgusting long deep taints that ran across her chest, scarring her otherwise flawless body.

'_Merlin… there's so much blood.'_ Fleur's light blue blouse was dyed almost completely in deep red. Afraid to touch her body, Harry settled for lightly stroking her hair, trying to offer what little comfort he could. Fleur smiled reflectively, purring softly against his touch. The part veela opened her tortured blue eyes and opened her mouth as if trying to speak. But no words came out, only wheezing and gasps of pain, which ended up being a nasty coughing fit.

"It's ok, Fleur. Don't try to talk. It's ok." Harry assured her, while rubbing her arms in consolation. He tried to put up a brave front for his girl, but inside, inside the male veela was a mess. He wanted to cry; he wanted to rage; but most importantly he wanted to rip the fucking cunt that did this a new asshole, force-feed her the old one along with her eviscerated entrails!

A second groan made Harry turn to his other lover.

'_Damn it to hell!'_ An equally beat up and battered Regine was laying two feet away, cradling her furiously bleeding wrists. Harry guessed that the girl would have passed out if it weren't for her bond connection, which seemed to be acting like minimum life support system. Even so, she felt her life force flickering with uncertainty.

Misery, suffering, anger and guilt rolled into more misery, suffering, anger and guilt. Why the fuck was he so slow! Why the bloody fuck didn't he nail Lavender with a bloody fucking AK when she rode him like some cheap whore off of Knockturn Alley?

Harry winced as all of a sudden he felt Fleur gripping him tightly enough to draw pain. A warning signal. He looked up to see several streaks of light steaming forwards him and his downed girls.

The male veela growled. For a moment, in desperation he debated the crazy idea of giving himself up in exchange for Fleur and Regine's lives. True, comtesse had promised no second chance, but Harry had been willing to beg on his knees. But he quickly killed the idea. He just knew that these lying, manipulative cunts would have little problem killing his girls in secret and calling it some unfortunate accidents.

"**_Proximus Protego! Pyro Destructum!"_** Three spells shattered harmlessly across his shield as Harry's return fire sent jets of flame shooting into the air once more. Apparently the veela had regrouped and pierced his illusions. Harry knew he needed to get his girls back on their feet. There was no way he could fight off those five veela while trying to guard his lovers.

Harry quickly pulled the two girls behind a nearby pillar. Hopefully that would buy them some time. He winced while his girls cringed as spells impacted the marble support, ripping up a cloud of rubble.

'_Come on, just be alright, be alright, be alright…'_ Whether he was actually calling upon some hidden technique of the male veela or was simply that desperate, Harry never found out, but he did know that his mantra like thoughts soon generated a roaring flame within his increasingly freezing heart. The fire was curiously gentle and soft as well as strong and forceful. It collected itself first in Harry and then spread its warming presence through the bonds and into the girls, who wrapped it around them like a security blanket.

Then the warmth was gone…

"Harry!"

'_Sweet Merlin and Morgana!'_ Harry almost cried in joy when Regine's questioning blue eyes gazed into his green ones without any hint of pain or suffering. Her wrists, though horribly bloodied were clear of open wounds.

"Vat 'appened?" Fleur asked in confusion. The part veela squealed when she realized she can speak without doubling over in coughs of blood. Harry laughed. Apparently, his girls drew upon his life force just like he drew on theirs from before. Amazing!

Unfortunately the trio had little time to celebrate. Harry pulled the girls closer to him as two blasting spells slammed into the pillar. Exchanging a look, the three sprung from cover, targeting the comtesse and the two flyers. All three targets were taken off guard and were either hit or forced to duck once more.

Harry watched from behind cover as one of the flying veela crashed into the ground. As much as he would rather finish one of two of them off (preferably without killing them due to the bond thing…yet), he had bigger worries. He snarled like a rabid animal as his eyes tracked Lavender closing in for another pass.

Merlin, the girl was a bloody piece of work. Though apparently not particularly powerful, the small veela more than made up for her lack of raw magical strength with unbelievable speed and a mastery of dueling techniques that was simply awe-inspiring. And the girl was a complete demon in close range hand-to-hand situations. With her around, Harry knew his girls would be sitting ducks to her non-magical attacks while he would be continuously deprived of being able to use his heavy hitting ranged curses.

Feelings aside, Harry knew Lavender just _had_ to go down... and stay down, no matter the cost.

"Go get her, 'arry. Ve'll be fine." Fleur encouraged rather unsubtly stroking the loins of her mate's dark desires. It was rather strange and frankly more than a little creepy; hearing the normally cheery and smiling part veela speak with such malice. But then the target of her malice did try to eviscerate her. Harry nodded with set expression as he took off.

"LAVENDER!"

The veela in question didn't even bat an eye at the sight of a furious male veela gunning after her. The slim girl flipped gracefully through the air, dodging Harry's two shredders while returning with a cleaving curse. The Gryffindor boy twisted his body slightly, letting the curse fly over him while simultaneously firing off a blasting curse. He timed the curse for just when the first two spells he fired turned around and rocketed back at Lavender like boomerangs.

Perfect. Having counted on Lavender to dodge rather than to block, Harry had attached an auto-locking charm to his shedders. But his expression of guarded glee disappeared when Lavender leaped over his low sweeping blasting curse, pointed her wand behind her and conjured a large block of stone which absorbed both of his boomeranging curses.

Unbelievable. She didn't even look back. _'Which meant she knew? But how the bloody… damn…' _The shredders curses were red in color. The locking charms attached to their tails were violet. Lavender must have seen the discoloration of his shredders. Harry Potter felt decidedly ill at how good she must be. This was going to be tougher than he thought.

"Surely the defeater of Voldemort can do better." Lavender laughed, causing a small bounce in her shoulder length mane of luminous white hair. Rather strange that none of the battling veela seemed encumbered by their long blonde hair, as if their manes naturally kept themselves from obstructing their visions.

"Was that supposed to impress me?" Probably yes... if things were different. Heck, before this whole mess, Harry was pretty smitten with this new Lavender; drop dead gorgeous, dynamite in bed, has a good head which she apparently uses, and a clearly very accomplished dueler. What more could he ask for?

'_How about not trying to enslave my soul and kill my other lovers.' _

Alas, things were different. Now, he couldn't help but think of her and her kind as anything but the disgusting little murdering tramps they were.

Fueled with anger, Harry attacked with an obliteration curse. In retrospect, it wasn't a smart move. While fairly powerful and almost guaranteed to severely wound if not mortally wound or kill, the curse required a two word incantation and had a delay time and a speed that rivaled the killing curse. Needless to say, Lavender easily dodged the attack while launching an attack that Harry wasn't quick enough to defend against; a running kick to the chest. Harry's mage level magic absorption shield hovered uselessly around him as Lavender's physical attack sent him sprawling across the floor.

The male veela bounced back to his feet with a vengeance. Harry narrowed his eyes at his opponent. He really should have known better than to think it would as simple as lobbing an overpowered blasting curse at her. No, this needed to be finessed, but he also didn't have a whole lot of time. Harry knew his girls couldn't hold out indefinitely against Comtesse de Noire, especially as she seemed to be holding back up until now.

Wiping a trace of blood off of his split lips, Harry recast his shield charm and charged straight for Lavender.

Minutes later, several more of Lavender's physical attacks had connected against Harry, while none of her spells got through. The veela, seeing the futility of her magic spells versus the effectiveness of her martial abilities, had steadily shifted the weight of her offense to hand-to-hand attacks using spells as distractions.

This was exactly what Harry was hoping for. Now all he needed was the right moment to spring the trap.

"**_Stupefy!"_**

The spell burst apart harmlessly against Harry's reinforced shield. Having expected this, Lavender surged forward at the same time, darting like a serpent as she aimed a powerful sideswipe kick at his kneecap. But she had been careless and had shifted the weight to her pivoting foot much too early. That mistake would cost her.

'_Bingo.'_ Harry, who was watching Lavender like a hawk, saw the attack the instant before it happened. He raised his targeted leg and used the flat side of the tibia to deflect the brunt of the kick. Lavender's brown orbs widened momentarily in surprise. But Harry did not give her the chance to recover. Extending his leg outwards, Harry instantly converted the defensive block into an offensive downward side kick. The physical block turned attack caught Lavender completely off guard as the girl lost her balance.

A beastly triumphant glean in his eyes, Harry exploded with action. His wand slashed furiously at almost point blank range, not once, not twice, but three times. Three times, dark spells screamed through the air; three times they cut into the petite girl's body, shredding clothing and skin alike and spilling blood every which way.

Lavender crumbled to the ground, howling in agony. The sounds she made were like music to his ears. The male veela could not help but take some sadistic joy in his enemy's pain, pain that was but a friction of the suffering she so righteously deserved after what she did, after what she tried to do. And a part of Harry, a non-trivial part of him definitely would have taken enormous pleasure in creating additional such symphonies.

"Was that better, Lav?" Taunted Harry to the prone figure on the ground. He didn't get a response from the girl on the ground, but he did get one from another girl in the form of a curse.

Harry threw himself violently to the side, narrowly dodging the jet of blue light. He threw up a shield but in the next moment a curse ripped it apart, sending him tumbling backwards.

'_I thought they wanted me alive.'_ Harry thought dryly as he picked himself up. He turned to his attacker. It was Sabine, the veela that Comtesse de Noire chewed out earlier and was apparently Lavender's backup. She was currently providing cover fire in front while Lavender slowly crawled away.

Curious, based on her performance, Harry hadn't tabbed her as someone who would know, much less cast, an annihilation class curse.

'_So they do know some nasty curses, but just chose to fight with lighter and less strenuous spells.'_ Makes sense. The heavier curses could be extremely draining. Sabine was already panting visibly but seemed intent on keeping him away from Lavender no matter the cost. Harry decided to conduct a little test.

"**_Conseco!"_**

The curse was aimed not at Sabine, but rather at Lavender. Sabine interceded immediately with her body while casting a shield charm. The spell wasn't all that powerful but was apparently enough to shatter her shield.

Ah-ha. Shields clearly weren't this girl's forte.

A dirty, underhanded and ruthless idea quickly frittered across Harry's mind. It was definitely not a gentlemanly plan, but then these veela haven't exactly been acting like ladies.

Harry rolled out of the way as an exploder shot over him.

Nope. Completely unlady-like.

Harry felt adrenaline rushing through his body as he prepped the curse. If this veela was so eager to play in the big league, then he would most certainly willing to oblige. After all, he had at his disposal the dark lore of Lord Voldemort, arguably one of the most powerful contemporary wizards.

"**_Universus_** **_Totalus Destructum!" _**Harry cried as he took on twisted smile that just seemed to scream 'let's see you get out of that one'.

The entire room quaked as the giant purple curse rocketed through the air. Sabine took one look at the approaching spell, tossed on the strongest shield (which wasn't much) she knew and threw her body over Lavender.

How very noble and selfless… how ultimately useless.

Harry turned his face away as the explosion kicked up a storm of discolored debris. He turned to see a red liquid oozed around the shattered and broken ground forming rivers of blood. The old Harry or any normal fourteen-year-old human most certainly would have been horrified by the sight, but the current male veela couldn't care less.

In fact, he felt an almost pleasing sense of satisfaction for having exacted just punishment for those who committed an unforgivable wrong. With a dark smile, Harry shifted his attention on other pressing matters.

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Flushed from his victory, Harry was feeling rather optimistic as he turned his attention towards his girls.

"**_Avada Kedavra!" _**

Oh shit. There goes that optimism.

Harry turned just in time to see an airborne Gwen firing the trademark green light of death.

"NOOOO!"

Harry's expression of horror was mirrored on Regine's face as she turned towards the oncoming green light of death. Harry wanted to scream and rage as he saw the French girl freeze like some broken doll resigning herself to her fate. Luckily for them, however, Fleur was not so complacent. The part-veela roughly yanked her friend away by tugging at the bottom of her long blonde hair. A stunned Regine watched the curse miss her by a matter of inches.

When Gwen and the other veela came around for another pass, Harry acted.

"**_Maximus Reducto!"_** The curse smashed into the upper portion of one of the pillars near the two flying veela. Gwen had to perform some erratic aerial aerobic maneuvers to dodge several giant slabs of stone. Her fellow flyer, however, was not so fortunate.

One of the larger pieces of broken rocks dropped on top of the bird girl, which hurtled her toward the ground at a frightening speed. She impacted the ground with a disgusting crunch sound. Harry really wondered how anyone could have survived falling face first from such a height in such a manner.

And then there were two enemy veela left. But even that was perhaps two too many.

Fleur elicited a startled cry as she crumbled to the ground, having taken a curse in the head. Harry turned just in time to see Gwen gain altitude after her flyby. The bond link between master and alpha wavered but held strong.

'_She'll live.'_ Harry took comfort in that thought even as a searing hate tore through his veins. It took all of his will power to suppress his instinct to pelt the lecherous bitch with spells. Gwen was, after all, a talented flyer if her previous aerial acrobatic skills were anything to go by.

Harry's mind wandered to the earlier battle with Lavender and to when the petite girl managed to penetrate even his most potent shields with physical attacks.

Ah-ha. Harry found the perfect strike plan. Swiftly, he built the components of his attack spell. He had one shot and he needed to time it just right.

Vigilantly, the male veela tracked his prey's movement via tunnel vision. And to think he was taken in by the bubbly girl's charm. Briefly he wondered if all those things she said about her family and her smart and wonderful kid sister was just crap used to bait him.

Not like it'll matter after this.

Harry watched as the veela slowed down as she neared the peak of her ascent and prepared to come around for another pass. Groaning with effort, Harry let his attack loose. What appeared to be a massive ball of molten fire screamed toward Gwen just as she began her turn.

The veela braked in mid air and slammed on the strongest elemental shield she knew. Gwen's look of concentration turned to confusion. The flaming fireball harmlessly dissipated against his shield like it was an illusion… revealing the blackened form of a spiked projectile no less than two feet long. The projectile penetrated through her magic shield as if it wasn't even there. It continued onwards, sliding into the veela's delicate torso like a knife through hot butter before erupting on the other end at the junction linking the frames of her wings to her spinal column.

Gwen's brief expression of horror turned into a visage of unimaginable pain as the metal spike cracked the critical spinal bones on which her flying appendages were attached to. Alas, no matter how good a flyer she was, there was only so much she could do when she no longer even had her wings.

The veela plummeted to the ground, leaving a trail of bloodied feathers and pieces of broken wing frames floating behind her. She didn't so much as give a twitch after slamming into the hard marble floor.

But why take the chance? Regine certainly wasn't going to.

The human girl nailed the downed veela with a blaster for good measure, sending Gwen's prone body sprawling twenty feet away.

Harry and his girls turned their attention to their last standing opponent. Comtesse Blanche de Noire literally blanched. Clearly, standing alone against the male veela and his two bonded wasn't the result she counted on.

Seeing movement in some rubble, the comtesse maneuvered over to see a mortally wounded veela crawling on her hands and knees. It was Gwen's wing partner and second flying veela, which Harry downed earlier. The elder veela looked down at her subordinate with distain, bordering on disgust.

"You lost. It iz over!" Fleur called out. De Noire whirled to look at her.

For perhaps the first time, the aristocratic comtesse allowed some expressive emotion to cross her face. The result wasn't pretty. The elegant pure veela's face was twisted in a rancid expression of unadulterated hate.

"For you!" Was the comtesse's retort as she produced a second wand, twirled it expertly in her left hand before bringing it in a parallel position to her first wand.

Harry snorted. Very well. If it was a beating she wanted… then he was all too happy to oblige. It would be interesting to see how the all mighty veela comtesse handled it when the odds were stacked against her.

The comtesse, however, had no intention of allowing the odds to remain stacked against her. She rotated her arms, pointing her wands at the veela lying at her feet.

A horrific light entered Harry's eyes. _'Bloody hell!'_

Twin bolts of magic erupted from de Noire's wands and impacted her defenseless target at point blank range. The veela gasped once before slumping forward… dead.

In that instant, Harry's world exploded as that veela's bond with him was violently broken. His head snapped back as let loose a roaring scream that turned into a gurgle as blood welled in his mouth. He felt his neural receptors being pushed into overdrive as pain surpassing one of Voldemort's crucio kicked all over his body.

Gravity dropped Harry Potter to his knees before falling over; his phoenix cored wand bounced on the ground twice before rolling to a stop beside him. Through his hazy vision, he saw a frantically yelling Fleur running to him…

… And he saw her being dropped by a curse from left field.

'_No.'_

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Given the circumstances, Fleur really couldn't be faulted for reacting the way she did. Her lover was shot. What else was she supposed to have done? But doing what she did cost her.

Fleur didn't even see the curse that slammed her in the right shoulder, dropping her to the ground. Her wand fell out her hands as numbing pain shot through her right shoulder and into her arm and wrist.

"Fleur!" Regine jumped forward to push her friend out of the path of the comtesse's second curse, but herself in harm's way.

The Beauxbatons prefect shrieked as her right arm, the same one that was hit earlier by Fleur's friendly bone crusher, disintegrated in a shower of blood. Spots of white showed places where the bone was visible while pieces of flesh dangled off of the skin. Regine doubled over, clutching her ruined arm as she flopped on the ground in pain.

It was both amazing and appalling that the young girl didn't instantly go into shock. A human being just wasn't designed to tolerate such a massive overload of the senses. But somehow she remained conscious even as her neural pain receptors were overloaded twice over.

After enduring nearly unbearable torment for what seemed like eons, the pain finally dulled enough for Regine to regain control of her senses. Fleur had recognized the comtesse's spell as a flesh shredding curse, an incalculably diabolic curse which literally tore the skin off of unprotected targets so they would bleed to death. Acting quickly, she first applied a clogging charm at the base of Regine's arm and then repaired the damaged skin with an advanced healing charm with magic borrowed from Harry. As the shredding curse did little structural damage to the veins and arteries under the skin, once Fleur removed the clog, blood quickly resumed flowing through Regine's limb. While her hand would be useless for immediate combat, it did stop hurting like hell.

All this took the aspiring healer less than two seconds. Quite amazing. But before Regine could thank her savior, Fleur was thrown into the air by another curse. Regine watched numbly as a second curse caught her childhood friend in mid air. Fleur landed some twenty feet away and did not move again.

Regine turned to see Comtesse de Noire smiling a very satisfied smile. After all, she had just single handedly downed all three of her opponents in less than a minute. True, her tactics were quite brutal and ruthless, but they worked didn't they? So why shouldn't she be satisfied?

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Alas, the comtesse should have made sure that her opponents were truly down for the count.

The sight of his Alpha hitting the ground had reinvigorated the male veela's fiery will to fight. Wand in hand, he rose unsteadily to his feet once more. Taking cold comfort in the fact that Fleur was still alive, Harry blasted off curse after curse at the treacherous comtesse.

The comtesse was impressed to be sure, but didn't seem too surprised. Calmly she dodged' parried and blocked, sending two of her own curses rocketing back at Harry. One was blocked but the other struck him in the side. Harry ignored the pain and livid bruise as he took two steps and fired again.

On and on it went. The chamber rocked and quaked under the force of the two fighters' curses while pillars exploded showering tons of marble stone every which way. Harry fought with demonic fortitude and ferocity. The prospect of defeat, which would mean his girls and slavery for himself, drove him onwards. But it didn't seem to matter. Harry's physical body was slowly giving out, his mind becoming more and more clouded. Having exhausted his intelligence and resources in the previous fights, the young wizard could now do little more than lob blasting curses at his enemy hoping that one would hit. But the comtesse easily twisted out of the way.

Now it suddenly made a whole lot more sense why the comtesse had kept herself scarce until now. The scheming veela was conserving her strength while everyone else wasted themselves. Bloody hell, how much of this had she planned out, up to and including the defeat of her own party? Most likely quite a bit considering she didn't so much as blink when offing one of her own.

"**_Novacula Telus!"_**

Harry knew he didn't have the energy to raise a shield in time so he tried dodging. Almost but no cigar. The wizard looked down to see a deep gush running across his chest. Merlin, it hurt like hell. The comtesse definitely wasn't one to play nice. Figures. Harry bit his tongue until he felt the metallic taste of blood hit his taste buds. No matter what, he was not going to give his enemy the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

Harry pushed himself onwards one last time, firing a volley of cutting and slashing curses, along with several wandless jinxes. He really doubted he could fight like this for even one more minute.

Was this the end?

Definitely not. As Comtesse de Noire charged up her magic shield, a blue jet of light roughly perpendicular to Harry's spell's trajectory struck her in the side causing her shield to drop. The countess screamed as the spells sliced into her, instantly reducing her clothing to tatters and coating her body with her own spilled blood.

Harry's eyes lit up with something that could only be described as utter jubilation at his enemy's melodious cries of agony.

'_Yes!'_ Crowed the beast within the male veela.

It was almost a shame really. She really was a beautiful creature to behold. No, she wasn't beautiful in the jaw-dropping, blonde bombshell, gorgeously sexy, young teenage fantasy kind of way that the rest of the veela were. Rather she was beautiful in the jaw-dropping, blonde bombshell, gorgeously sexy, elegant older woman kind of way. Again, a shame.

"**_Universus Totalus Destructum" _**So, so very close.

Harry literally had the vulnerable Comtesse de Noire targeted with his annihilation class curse. But just as he released the spell, his right shoulder blade exploded out of its socket. His aim was thrown way off; the curse shot exploded high in the ceiling sending huge chunks of stone blocks crashing all over the room. Harry felt something warm oozing down his back as the spell propelled him nose first into the ground.

Bending over into a kneeing position, he looked up to see a wounded and battered but very much alive Lavender staring down at him. She looked like she just came through a war zone and swam through a river of blood. Her clothes were reduced so that she was effectively standing in her birthday suit; and entire parts of her, including her once shinny whitish blonde hair were painted in red.

Harry thought it oh so very ironic that they (he and Regine) should catch a lucky break in catching the veela leader off guard only to have the tables turned on them in the next instant.

Meanwhile, Lavender looked around, gazing at the carnage and destruction around her before settling her eyes on the prone form of the veela whom the comtesse had coldly executed. For a moment, Harry thought he saw recognition and disgust in his classmate's deep brown eyes. Feverishly he wondered if he could induce her to rebel against the comtesse. Though it wouldn't really be rebelling would it? He was technically her 'lord' was he not?

Yes, Harry was desperate. But it didn't matter. Lavender leveled her bloody wand at him and he could just tell from the look in her eyes that no amount of persuasion on his part would change her mind. It was the same look his girls had at the beginning of the battle; it was the look of fierce determination and of the will to persevere no matter the cost. Clearly Lavender possessed some noble and praise worthy attributes, which Harry would have been happy to acknowledge … had the situation been different.

The comtesse leisurely strolled up to Lavender and looked at her appraisingly. A smug smile then crossed the elder veela's face, lighting it up like a muggle light bulb. It was the indulgent smile of a parent or mentor who was extraordinarily proud of what her child or student did. And just like a praised child or student, Lavender smiled back, but in a softer and more hesitant manner. The only thing missing was the image of de Noire petting the younger girl's fluff of blonde hair while whispering words like "good girl".

The whole affair seriously made Harry nauseous.

A red curse streaked toward the two standing veela. Comtesse deflected it with the wave of her wand.

"Aconit, would you like the honor of taking care of the human girl and the part veela or should I?"

The casual manner in which Regine's death was being discussed made Harry's stomach churn in disgust. Lavender shuffled a bit and responded in a quiet voice that he couldn't quite catch.

"Indeed. Given your injuries, it may be best that I do it. Please keep an eye on our lord."

Harry felt his heart turn cold as Comtesse de Noire produced a sick looking scimitar in her left hand and casually twirled it. _'Run, Regine, run…'_ He prayed. But where was the poor girl supposed to run to?

'_I need to do something.'_ Harry thought furiously as he saw Regine alternate between fighting and running for her life. All things considered, she was doing quite well. The French girl was apparently ambidextrous given how ably she wielded her wand in her left hand. And it would also appear that she was also at least somewhat learnt in the muggle arts as she was able to either dodge or defend against the comtesse's onslaught of physical attacks. But she could only hold out so long. Even after a few minutes, Harry could sense Regine weakening while the comtesse's attacks grow ever more ferocious.

Harry knew that he couldn't just lie there and helplessly watch some crazy bitch butcher one of his lovers with a sword. But he was so tired and exhausted, his limbs sore beyond belief. If only he had a little more strength…

'_What!'_ It was like a wish come true. Harry felt warmth spread over his numb self as he sensed his back being healed and his body being rejuvenated.

'_Fleur? Is that you?'_

It was. The male veela's alpha was pushing as much of her own life force and energy into him as possible, even at the risk of draining herself dry.

'_Fleur, no, you'll kill yourself!'_ Harry screamed in his mind. But a calming sensation quickly mollified his fear. It was as if she was telling him to not to worry. Before it disappeared, Fleur's presence told him to '_Save Regine'_. Deciding to take that advice, Harry focused on the target in front of him.

Had Lavender been in a better state of being; had she not been beaten to within an inch of her life with cutters, blasted with an annihilator, or had the blood of her teammate, who died saving her life, sprayed all over her, she might have noticed the sudden change in Harry. But alas, the young veela was simply too exhausted, physically and emotionally. At this point, the so-called victory, which Comtesse de Noire had promised, seemed as hollow and bitter as the defeat. All she wanted was for it to be over.

Lavender first sensed something was wrong when she felt herself stumbling backwards as her wand flew out of her hand. It was too late by then already. The veela saw Harry's fist arching towards her and was able to do little more than brace her body for impact.

Harry Potter smiled as his strength augmented fist arched towards Lavender's unprotected and almost naked chest. Guy hitting a gorgeous, blonde and near naked girl! In any other situation, such an act would have been decried as abuse, assault or even sexual assault, but in this case, there definitely were mitigating circumstances. And as far as Harry was concerned, none of these veela were human beings and deserved none of the moral privileges accorded to normal human beings.

There was a loud _smack_! as his closed fist smashed dead center against his opponent's chest. It was quite amazing how the slim female wasn't sent flying. Guess veela really were tougher than they looked. But the powerful punch did utterly destroy the floating third bone in Lavender's ribcage located just under the breast. The crunch sound of the bone snapping into pieces was very loud and very clear. A second later, the poor veela was rolling on floor screaming her lungs out.

Harry didn't even blink as he summoned his wand into his hand. He had no time to waste. The young wizard aimed and fired twice.

"_**Conseco!"**_

"**_Deflagro!"_** Harry's aim was true and Comtesse de Noire was so intent on finishing off a recently disarmed and panting Regine that she didn't even sense his attack until it was too late. The veela shook in pain as the curse hit, causing her to drop her guard and her scimitar sword. Regine took full advantage of the break. Instead of wasting time to reacquire her wand, she picked the sword off of the ground in one smooth motion and impaled her still convulsing opponent. Not exactly fair to be sure but fairness wasn't exactly an agreed upon condition for this fight.

Even across the room, Harry could see the look of shock and surprise in Comtesse de Noire's eyes, which said everything. It was simply inconceivable to her that she had lost… and to this _human_ girl, no less. Momentarily something flashed in Blanche's deep blue eyes as she gazed into Regine's sapphire orbs. She then turned and locked stares with Harry's piercing emerald eyes before shifting to look at something next to him. Harry traced her gaze to see the downed form of Lavender Brown. Harry's head swung back, almost violently, at the comtesse once more. She smiled back at him.

'_No way!'_ Harry's eyes shot wide open in horror.

"Regine…" He cried, hoping to get his warning out, but it was too late. The veela wrapped her pale fingers around Regine's shoulder and forcibly pulled her enemy towards herself. In doing so, the comtesse fully impaled herself on her own sword. The irony was delicious in a dark and twisted way.

Stunned, Regine pulled her bloodied hands away. Bleeding furiously from the sword wound through her chest, Comtesse Blanche Belladonna de Noire dropped to the ground… dead. In that same second, Harry Potter also crumbled to the ground once more. For the third time that day, he felt one of his bonds being ripped apart.

The next few minutes were a blur, but Harry vaguely recalled Lavender rising to her feet, effectively downing Regine for the count in a quick firefight and pinning his body to the ground with a modified petrifying spell. It was when the last standing veela straddled him and began shedding his and her own clothing that Harry came to. The male veela struggled against his captor fiercely but vainly.

Harry gasped in surprise and pleasure as Lavender sank down. Lord knows he tried to fight it, but after the hard and long day he had, it was just so good. It felt like he was encased in nirvana which wasn't too far from the truth. Out of the five veela he had earlier, Lavender had definitely been the best. The veela smirked as she felt little Harry give a little jerk in recognition. And if Harry was willing to be truthful (which he most certainly is not) she was even better than Fleur… way better actually.

Harry moaned as soft, slim hands ran across his chest, setting his senses aflame with their sensuous touch. He had been stunned to learn that Lavender was a virgin as the girl really was just too good at doing what she did.

'_No…'_ Harry roared in protest. He was a male veela, _'the'_ male veela. It was utterly humiliating and inconceivable that he should be on the bottom, much less to allow himself to be used and ridden like some bitch. As if sensing his thoughts, the veela on top of him brought her head down. Harry's eyes instinctively tracked the descent of the twin perky orbs of heavenliness. Though bloodied and lightly scarred, they were still perfect and he felt a deep-seated longing to possess them. The male growled with approval as Lavender pressed her breasts against his chest. Her long trusses of bloodied white blonde hair draped over her head like the halo of an angel returning from battle.

"These are yours, Harry, as is the rest of me. They are yours and _only_ yours." The growl of approval intensified indicating his very obvious pleasure with that statement. Harry definitely wasn't going to share this lovely angel.

"And after today, I'll be at your beck and call. I'll find you other girls, of all shapes and sizes. You can have as many as you want. And we can do anything you want, Harry…a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g..." Harry's pupils instantly dilated as a myriad of kinky images floated through his mind. The gorgeous veela's soft angelic giggle indicated that she had read his thoughts.

"I'm sorry Harry. I really am! But, please trust me just this once. Can you do that, Harry?" The girl sounded so needy and desirous for his affection…

'…_and she feels soooo good.'_ Harry wanted to shout 'yes, yes, yes', the consequences be damned. Who cares if she and her friends tried to enslave him as long as she kept on doing what she was doing.

Just before Harry went over completely, one last nagging thought popped into his mind.

'_What about the girls…'_ What about them? Harry was pretty sure he could have plenty of girls… as many as he want. That's what Lavender promised, wasn't it?

'_What about Fleur? What about Regine?'_ Harry frowned, his head clearing slightly from the haze of being sexually intoxicated. He reached forward with an unsteady hand. Lavender gasped as he nested his limp in the valley between her bosoms.

"Fleur… Regine…?"

"I will take care of them." She answered reassuringly with a loving smile. See… she said she'll take care of them.

_Take care of them… _

_Take care of them… _

_Take care of them… _

The words repeated over and over again but the tone changed, growing darker and colder with each repetition. Harry knew he heard them before, but where; where had he heard those words.

Memories flashed past by Harry before settling to one chilling scene…

There he lay on the ground, wounded and bleeding. Two distinctly female figures stood before him, conversing.

"_Aconit, would you like the honor of taking care of the human girl and the part veela or should I?" _

"…_maybe, you should take care of them, ma'am…"_

"_Indeed. Given your injuries, it may be best that I do it. Please keep an eye on our lord."_

The words cycled again.

…_maybe, you should take care of them, ma'am…_

_Take care of them…_

_Take care of them…_

_Take care of them…_

The landscape of the memory changed again to an unfamiliar and alien scene. This time the bound figures of Fleur and Regine kneeled before him. A smiling Lavender was snuggled to his side.

"_Take care of them…"_ She commanded cheerfully. Imperiously dressed veela guards arrived and dragged the two sobbing and broken figures out. The last words Harry heard were the two girls' desperate pleas.

"_I'm sorry and I love you, Harry. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. I love you, Harry and I'm sorry." _

Reeling in shock Harry pulled himself from memory lane. He then shook his head to clear away the dizziness. Everything suddenly became vividly clear now. The male veela looked at the hand he had pressing against Lavender's chest.

"Harry?" Lavender's soft voice which sound so sweet and melodious just moments before now seemed positively vile. His hand hardened as his eyes took on a dark glean as he focused on an object far away.

"Harry!" This time, the veela's force carried an edge of concern. "What's wrong?"

Harry's hardened green eyes looked up.

"You."

"**_Accio!" _**Harry's cold voice sounded out the spell articulately.

The veela's beautiful brown eyes blinked once in confusion before her corneas reflected an expression of pain. She opened her mouth only to find blood leaking from the edges and down to her chin before dripping tiny droplets on Harry's chest.

It is a testament to Lavender's physical and mental resilience that her only reaction to having a blade lodged in the back was a wince. Or it could have been that she was just so surprised to find herself impaled with her own dagger. Somehow Harry had wandlessly removed the weapon from the jugular of his first victim and summoned it across the room to strike the veela straddling him.

Lavender winced again. At least the blade's progress was stopped by her spinal column, or so she thought. Harry's eyes hardened again.

"**_Accio! Accio! Accio!"_** Three more times he shouted the summoning spell. Three times the blade dug deeper, cutting into and cracking the impaled veela's spinal bone until it finally broke through. Lavender screeched as an entire segment of her vertebrae exploded, embedding her internal organs with pieces of broken bones.

She offered no resistance as Harry roughly pushed her off of him. With tears running down both cheeks, the veela tried to curl into a ball, which was a difficult to do when one lacked a functioning spinal column. So instead, Lavender grabbed onto the nearest support she could find, which was, to Harry's amazement, his legs. The young man watched as the girl rubbed against it like some domesticated pet. She then turned her head to look at him with hurt doe-like eyes.

Harry felt hate and anger surge within him. How dare, how DARE she pull the sick puppy love stunt on him at this point. He backed away, swung his leg back and kicked…hard. Lavender yelped like a, well, kicked puppy as she bounced some distance away. For about a minute, she whined and mewled in pain as she tried to stand or move before giving up. Then, for another minute, she shivered as if taken by a cold. Then finally, presumably after succumbing to her wounds, she drifted off. No, she wasn't dead, not yet at least. Harry felt four weak bond links remaining, two of which being 'his girls' and the other two being Lavender and Gwen. All were unconscious.

So standing there in the middle of the destroyed chamber amongst his unconscious 'lovers' – his real lovers – and the dead and dying veela, a just about naked Harry James Potter let loose a roar of masculine fortitude.

After which, he dropped to the ground like a sack of dead weights. The events of the day being too much, even for a male veela.

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**Translation:**

**Subseco** – To cut away

**Novacula Telus** – A sharp knife or razor that acts like a missile

**Deflagro** – To be burnt down, destroyed by fire


	15. Lament of the Veela

**Rating:** M for graphical themes, gruesome depictions of blood and sexual improprieties. Chapter includes graphic **anal** and **femme slash** sexual acts. Smut is available in the uncensored version.

**Posted: 6/11/2006**

**Betas: Yogert, Lord Sivart**

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**Chapter 15: Lament of the Veela**

For Princess Violette Mercière, the sight of the remains of one of Comtesse de Noire's veela outside spoke loud and clear about the fate of their _Victory_ plan. The way the girl laid resting, motionless and inert, amidst a pool of blood on the stone pavement; the way her soft smooth skin was parted aside as if by thoracic surgery – roughly and brutally executed thoracic surgery that is – laying bare her innards for the world to see.

The royal veela shook her head clear. She did not need the gruesome imagery stuck in her mind, not when she had this gruesome scene right in front of her.

Violette was in the palatial chamber just inside the main entrance, standing at ground zero of the most recent force of nature that would henceforth be named the fury-of-the-thousand-year-beast. Pillars, nearly hundred feet tall, over a meter wide diameter and metric tons worth of pillars were laid bare; chucks of the pristine ornate ceiling were displaced all across the ground; while the entire surface of the once glistening chamber floor was transformed into a twisted wasteland of broken rocks… covered with flesh and blood, lots of flesh and blood that is.

Pushing a lock of her fine white hair behind an ear, Violette gazed upon the body splayed before her. The nubile veela's torso was run through with a large metal spike that stuck out at both ends and her clothing had two enormous red-black circles in the front and back. Blood pooled on the ground sprinkled liberally with patches of broken feathers.

The girl trembled when Violette laid a hand gently on her back. She was definitely alive, barely, and the royal princess was quite sure she would be better off dead. Violette's delicate fingers caressed the wand strapped to her side. She was tempted to help end the mortally wounded veela's suffering, but alas something told her the choice was not hers to make.

The veela mewled pathetically half babbling something about her '_soeur_'. Poor, poor Guinevere. Violette knew the girl with the sunny disposition quite well. _'She didn't deserve this.'_

The young girl's eyes darted to another body lying further off. This clearly was Gwen's wing mate based on her ruffled sets of wings. Her back looked like it took a nasty pounding from the cut clothing and skin inflicted by the broken and jagged stone around her.

Violette gave her a little nudge. Dead. Curious. These rocks shouldn't have been fatal to a veela. Then, the princess's eyes caught the twin cuts running across the neck. Slit jugular; execution style.

'_That bitch.'_ To commit such a heinous act against one of her own… Violette glared at Comtesse de Noire's prone form. So the perpetrator was dead as well. How appropriate. Though from the looks of things, her death was far too clean and quick compared to the surrounding carnage.

'_Stabbed by her own sword?'_ Violette almost laughed as she looked at the scimitar protruding from her blackened chest. To think that their most revered and powerful fighter would die in such a manner was almost laughable. What's next? That the human girl killed her.

The veela royalty's blue eyes swept onwards. A fifth body was laid out on her back, with a huge gush that dug deep into her throat. A sixth one was…well all over the place. Given that every other body was identified, that left just one person, Sabine. Poor girl. A broody crater dominated the center of the room, indicating the location of where most of her remains were. But pieces of the unfortunate veela's flesh and guts hung everywhere as well. The Matriarch had even identified pieces of the spleen and several lung fragments.

Finally, Violette's shinning crystal eyes fell upon the slumped form of Lavender Brown. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. Her hand reached for the tiara on her head. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as the jeweled crown clung uselessly on the ground. What good was all this when she did nothing to save her?

Violette slammed her eyes shut. She was responsible as she could have prevented this. The veela princess reeled at the thought, panting in pain as she felt her chest become unbearably tight. Only the need to remain strong as the veela's remaining leader prevented the young girl from breaking down in tears.

'_Get it together, girl. The worst isn't over yet.'_ She had no idea how right she was.

Off the corner of her eyes, she saw the Matriarch hovering over the comatose human girl, who along with the part veela was in surprisingly good condition. Two veela sentries guarded the defenseless girls' bodies at wand point. Violette waved them off. With de Noire's entire team dead or incapacitated, further aggression against the male veela and especially his protected girls was at best pointless and at worst suicidal.

The other veela stood around, looking at their royal princess expectantly as they waited for her orders. Whatever they were going to do they needed to do it quick. As soon as the beast they tried to chain awakened, that was likely it for everyone within a ten-mile radius.

Alas, the veela never had a chance to come up with anything resembling a plan. Violette was just opening her mouth to speak when a blinding light engulfed the room. When it cleared, Harry stood before her with his imposing wand levied against her face at point blank range.

Violette sighed in defeat. She flashed a non-verbal message at her fellow veela sisters and within seconds, the only weapon left in the open was the one wielded by Harry.

"What have you done to _my girls_?" He demanded harshly, clearly not the least bit ameliorated by the veela's voluntary disarmament.

"Nothing. We haven't touched them since we came in." Violette offered in what she hoped was a placating manner. No luck. The young veela winced as her captor jammed his wand against her neck.

"I checked their vitals. They are all right and should be waking up soon." Harry glared at the Matriarch, clearly suspicious her words as well.

"_Donc, je veux que vous, salopes, foutiez le camps sur l'heure et disparaissez de ma vue à tout jamais._" Ordered the male veela in near flawless French.

Silence.

No one could deny that the young English boy had style. Outnumbered and still weak, Harry Potter had the audacity to threaten their royal princess inside their palace and then demand in their native language that they leave. Of course, the real kicker was when the veela actually followed his order.

"No, your highness, I would like it if you could stay." Harry added coldly. It wasn't a request. Violette winced once again at the feel of Harry's wood being pressed against her. The other veela hesitated. Whatever their personal feelings, they weren't about to abandon their leader to someone with decidedly unpleasant designs on her person. But a stern stare from Violette forced their hand.

As the main entrance door closed shut with a resounding slam, the pure veela fought against the overwhelming instinct to shudder. Princess Violette Mercière braced herself as she stared into the accusing glare of the lord male veela, the reputed Boy-Who-Lived, and most likely her executioner.

"Are you the one responsible?" A simple question with oh so many implications. But the girl on trial knew exactly what her judge was referring to.

"Yes." Violette's tone was one of resigned acceptance. One had to appreciate the young woman's candor. How tempting it must have been for a person in her position to insert a little excuse or even an explanation.

For several long minutes, nothing happened … except, of course, for Harry trying to drill a hole through Violette's soul with his eyes; eyes which seemed to damn her for all eternity. Violette squared her shoulders once as she opened her mouth to speak.

"I…" Then her world exploded in pain.

When she came to a second later, she had a mouthful of blood and found her back pressed painfully against one of the damaged and jagged pillars. Violette felt her breath being squeezed out of her as she felt pressure being steadily applied to her windpipe. Her small body shook as she gasped desperately for breath, but only succeeded in ruining her clean silk garment with spats of blood. Her baby blue eyes blinked rapidly like a frightened trapped prey.

For a second, Violette's fight or flight instinct urged her to react. Her small hands quickly flew to the frail looking but powerful hand that locked her neck in place, but there they stopped. Why was she resisting? After all, wasn't this what she was expecting?

Unlike human counterparts who bore the titles of 'princess', veela princesses of the French enclaves had vastly different roles; roles which often made them companions of pain, sisters of suffering and even brides of death. Violette Mercière was no different.

Though never had she expected to go in such a pathetic manner. For someone such as her to die by asphyxiation like some useless Barbie doll… that was just depressing.

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Click; the sound of events in Harry's mind clicking into place. Lying on the ground with his mind hovering on the boarders between consciousness and unconsciousness, Harry had worked fiercely to put everything together. It's quite amazing how much a person can learn after getting a thorough thrashing. Of course, the conclusions he drew did not speak well of his intelligence.

'_I was such a fool.'_ But at least he was smart enough to recognize when he had been had. And no matter what, Harry had to admit that these French veela had class. Even now, he suspected that he barely scratched the surface of the extensive and sprawling layers of lies and deceit they had woven around themselves over the course of many generations.

But, at least he now had a - if not the - trump card at his disposal, Princess Violette Mercière. Harry was sure that the Matriarch was a fake. She looked to the royal princess for guidance much too often. How terribly clever. Who from the outside would ever suspect the young princess of being anything more than an exquisite piece of eye candy.

Harry's eyes pierced his prey with a cold glare. Oh, how wished to just let go; to surrender to his burning desire to tear, to hurt, to exact cruel vengeance on the vulnerable girl in front of him.

The male veela beast smiled, his emerald eyes set ablaze with a maniacal glean.

Harry suddenly released his hard grip on his captive's throat, pinning her instead with the full weight of his body. He felt the veela princess tremble beneath him, gasping for air while her arms instinctively latched onto him for support. Face set, he quickly patted the girl down, his eyes darkening steadily with each successive sweep. A single fluid swish of his wand caused Violette's regal garments to disintegrate. A small stiletto and a pair of very _'impressive'_ wands cluttered to the floor. That was a lot of firepower for such a small girl.

Harry's hand flew over Violette's exquisite body; his palm sliding around the edges of her skimpy silk lingerie: his digits caressing the gentle valley between her breasts. This girl might look the part of the stereotypical pampered little princess, but she definitely didn't _feel_ the part. Harry gave her creamy thighs a squeeze. _'Sweet Merlin.'_ They were as hard as magically fortified dragon's hide.

Curious. Even with all the adrenaline and testosterones shooting through his veins, Harry found it vaguely curious that the veela girl before him remained so unresisting. Surely a girl who carries four weapons on her person must know some techniques for physically dislodging an opponent, but her arms flapped around uselessly. And be reminded that Harry was still buck-naked and Harry jr. apparently came with its own pussy radar. His meaty cock lurched forward on its own accord, pressing itself against Violette's overflowing twat. Her chastity's last line of defense, a thin wiry piece of blue lace, buckled under the pressure as the dainty princess vocalized her struggle with a throaty groan.

To be fair, _this_ wasn't Harry's initial intention; really it wasn't. But the sound of the girl's moaning, the smell of her fresh disposition, and the sight of her sweat covered body and dripping sex; they were like ingredients for a super Imperio Curse, targeted specifically for him with one command in mind. The male veela leaned in, lapping up quite innocently the traces of her blood at the edge of her mouth. Harry failed to suppress his moans of heavenly delight. He was like a bee, buzzing around, intoxicated with the taste of a blossoming flower's essence.

Harry had sampled the appetizer. His soul now _craved_ for the entrée.

A wad of clear liquid hit the floor with a resounding splat, its resulting sound magnified and bounced about the enormous chamber room. And what do you know; she was wetter than that everlasting Playwizard blow-me toy Seamus used to always talk about.

'… _just like the rest of her whoring friends.' _Harry thought maliciously. An unpleasant dark look crossed his face ruining his normally radiant complexion.

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Violette felt herself being whirled around. Her body protested in pain as Harry crushed her abdomen against the pillar. The jagged marble cut deeply into her exposed skin, drawing blood samples to the surface. The veela princess moaned helplessly as her tormentor pressed his rock hard shaft against her naked backside.

"You little slut, did you really think I would defile my body by being with the likes of you?" Wisely, Violette kept her mouth shut about being a virgin. But Harry was unrelenting. The veela's mouth opened in a silent scream as she felt her back being set on fire.

"Don't ignore me, _salope_! I asked you a question."

"_Non, monsieur_?"

"Liar!" Predictably Violette felt pain, maybe even a bit of fear (just a bit), but all that took a distant second to something else; something which Harry in his state of hyper-arousal did not miss. His flaming green glowed with demonic glee.

"Are you actually getting _wetter_?" Harry pressed, his tone dropping to a low predatory baritone. The veela whimpered pitifully, unable to deny her arousal as her erogenous zones burned with wanton lust.

"Yes you are. You really are a little tart aren't you! Just like my conniving classmate." The helpless blonde could only respond by panting like a bitch in a heat; her senses all but overwhelmed by the male veela. While Harry was lacking in some areas of the veela sexual arts, what he lacked in experience and control, he more than made up for in sheer power.

"I swear, you could be that slut's twin sister." Harry cackled.

Violette desperately wanted to resist, to protest. Instead, she continued to leak like a pierced 'dike'.

The domineering young man relished the sight of his plaything's shame and humiliation. His comment even made sense in a perverse, kinky kind of way. The two girls had the same height, same build and same hair color. Their one contrasting physical characteristic was their eye colors; Princess Violette Mercière had doe-like light blue eyes while Lavender's had dazzling brown ones. Far as Harry was concerned, the veela before him could very well be a sister of Lavender's.

'_Lavender.'_ Just the very idea that this pretty, young and still healthy thing might be related to the scheming rapist bitch lying half dead on the ground set his blood aflame. He still remembered the comtesse's gloating words about how they, specifically Lavender, had played him like a fiddle. Just hours ago, he almost succumbed to his classmate's vile wiles. Oh yes, Harry Potter was definitely dying for a little pay back.

His hand made a single swipe, eliciting a piercing feminine shriek. Harry then carelessly dropped the tattered, thoroughly soaked remains of her royal highness's light blue panties to the floor. Still the veela did not resist. In fact, Violette seemed to have all but resigned herself to the imminent assault on her maidenhood. Her forehead was pressed against the pillar while her arms were wrapped around the structure for support.

There would be no fairytale ending this time, at least not for this princess. Violette gasped as she felt her orifice being probed.

But something was off…

The blonde girl froze in surprise, but only until an impatient Harry ordered her to "Start sucking!"

The veela obeyed with all the reluctance of a docile house elf. But quickly Violette realized two things: one, she had his captor's wet fingers in her mouth, and two; they had a distinct pungent taste to them.

The veela shuddered at the implication. She wanted to turn her head away and spit in disgust. Harry was having none of that and quickly made his point by ramming his digits into her warm opening. Violette gagged at the forceful entry, but soon recovered to do what he wanted. One lick, two lick and before she knew it, she was running her tongue along the length of each of Harry's fingers as if they were mini-dildos.

"You like how you taste, don't you, _your highness_?" Harry smiled darkly, blasting the vulnerable princess with another dose of his veela hormones.

Violette could only moan as she continued to lick and slurp with wild abandon.

"Too busy sucking your own juices, huh?" Harry jerked, pulling his fingers out the veela's tight orifice with a pop sound. He then gripped Violette arm roughly and spun her around once more. Drool and girl juice stained the princess's otherwise flawless creamy complexion.

"Figures that the French would have the likes of you being royalty. Wouldn't surprise me if you happen to be a spawn of Queen Margot herself."

Violette's cheeks flushed pink. Harry's offhanded insult hit a raw nerve. Not surprising. Marguerite de Valois, who lived in the 14th to 15th century as one time wife of Henry Bourbon (Henry IV of France) to the muggles, represented one chapter of history that many French veela would rather forget. In the muggle and wizarding worlds, Marguerite was notorious for being the literal archetype of the French street-whore. But her popularized sexual indiscretions and proclivities were only a part of what made her own people despise her.

More than her licentious activities, Queen Margot was also inept, incompetent and grossly negligent of her duties as the ranking veela in France. Her actions had near disastrous political and civil consequences for the veela populations in France. And it took the Herculean efforts of countless veela revisionist initiatives over many decades to cover up the worst of what happened. Even now, contemporary veela regularly wonder how one of their own was allowed to live - much less rule - in such a blasé manner.

One noteworthy consequence did come out of all this. The veela royal personages of France after Margot would forever be held accountable for the welfare of their population. The royal office was radically changed to become a brutal expression of what would be best known as 'veela Darwinian meritocracy'. Draconian and even sadistic punishment was regularly dealt to veela princesses or queens who failed to measure up… or who were just too weak.

Princess Violette Mercière could still vividly recall how Comtesse de Noire had masterfully plotted the demise of her predecessor, who was peppered with slander and stripped of her executive authority. Violette had been there that day when de Noire publically humiliated her, forcing her to her knees to apologize for some trumped up charges before personally administering the coup de grace blow. She had been there when she watched her predecessor being shoved into a freshly dug grave in the middle of nowhere.

Perhaps that was why she remained unafraid even as Harry towered menacingly over her. She had long since come to terms with what being a veela princess might entail. But Harry, of course, didn't know this. All he knew was that he saw a glaring light in her eyes; a light which no victor ever wanted to see in the eyes of his defeated foe. Hot with embroiled anger, Harry lined himself up against the lithe girl's firm derriere. He was fully intending to claim his royal captive here and now when…

"'arry?" Instantly, Harry's fanatical urge to cause suffering dissolved, replaced with concern for his Alpha.

Violette collapsed to the ground in a panting heap as Harry hurried jumped off of her. Despite what had happened and what would likely have happened, she couldn't help but feel a stab of maddening jealousy as her lord gave the dull and unimpressive part veela his full attention while dropping _her_ like well… trash.

"Get over here. Help Fleur and I'll let you live." Violette added 'for now' in her mind. But she was in no condition to be a wisecrack. The veela scurried over like a pathetic house elf desperate to please her master.

Less than a minute later, Violette completed her assignment. And she almost received a curse in the torso for her trouble. But Harry, upon eyeing a wide-eyed Fleur, hesitated in the last second. Releasing pent up rage was one thing, doing so on an unresisting young girl when his mate was watching was another.

"Oh don't mind us. Go fuck her until she bleeds." Harry whirled around to see a dirtied and battle wary but otherwise healthy Regine standing meters away. Again, the veela princess watched with jealousy that surprised even herself as the young English wizard swooped the lovely French blonde into his arms. Harry then bestowed generous portions of kisses as he checked for injuries.

"I'm fine, Harry. The bond must have healed me. And yes I do mean what I said." Tossing the naked veela princess a hateful glare, Regine added heatedly, "You should make her bleed."

"And look she's all wet for it too." She spoke naughtily, giving Harry a light push towards the veela. That Violette was horny for Harry was true. Equally true was her anger at the human girl for daring to address her so and her shame at herself for acting so helpless.

"Please spare the other veela. They had nothing to do with this." Violette begged. With her fate uncertain, the veela made one last a plea for her people.

Harry's eyes narrowed. She dared to make demands of him! He advanced menacingly towards her. "And why should I?"

"… Because Lavender said you wouldn't be like _him_." The veela princess spoke uncertainly in a whispered tone, but she might as well have shouted so far as Harry was concerned.

"Like who?" His hands flew to her, roughly pulling her slender form towards him.

"High Lord Thanatos." She squeaked out.

Violette whimpered as she felt Harry's emerald eyes clawed their way into her mind. Under normal circumstances, unless the target veela consented, her mind was effectively impervious to conventional legilimency techniques. But the veela leader was not exactly in the best of health, mentally or physically. Her worst fears and the nightmarish memories of her people floated freely to the top of her head, free for the picking.

Harry's eyes dilated as his mind absorbed fragments of Violette's thoughts. Then, as quickly as possible, he backed away, his face ashen with horror.

"The leading veela of what was then Gaulia Major had killed his Alpha in a foolish dispute. As if that wasn't enough, they then tried to set the Germanic and Volga veela to take the fall. Needless to say, Thanatos found out the truth. What you saw was the result as seen through the eyes of one of the survivors." Stated Violette, answering his silent question.

Harry's mind reeled as his anger and pent-up hatred for the veela and her kind was replaced with disbelief. Sure, he knew how powerful a male veela could be, but he barely recognized the force of nature that raged against those veela.

"Thanatos was a brilliant ruler, but he was absolutely ruthless against those who wronged him. As example to the veela of Gaul, he… he selected a veela town at random and through a variety of creative ways put to death its entire population. Everyone - the adult veela, their mates, the children and even all the livestock and domestic animals - all were killed." Violette explained with impossible calm.

Harry looked distinctly nauseous as the young girl added captions to the barbaric memories like an automaton. As much as he empathized with Thanatos's plight, his actions induced feelings of revulsion within Harry. One especially gruesome scene stuck to his mind. In it, a veela was laying wounded on the ground while her human mate and her eldest daughter stood guarding her. The frenzied Thanatos didn't even pause as he ripped all three people apart leaving only bloody pieces and three lumpy carcasses for the family's sole remaining survivor, a very young and tear stained veela girl.

'_Ugh, I'm going to hurl.'_ He almost did. As if coming to an epiphany, the young man suddenly saw the broken room around him, littered with bodies of dead veela.

Harry lowered his head as a profound sense of sadness overcame him. No, it wasn't because he felt regret for what he did, but rather it was because he didn't feel it. He could muster no remorse for cursing those veela, for inflicting untold pain upon them and for killing them. Was this the hallmark of a male veela's 'greatness'? To be a demonic monster capable of reckless indulgence as the connoisseur of others' suffering?

'_No.'_ And if that was the case, then Harry was going to be one male veela who wanted no part of it. But by no means was this a wholehearted internal proclamation. Even now, the male veela felt a longing to crush the pureblood veela's body with his own and selfishly use her for his own pleasure.

Harry looked down and then up. As if coming to a decision, he suddenly turned around and started walking away from his veela captive.

Violette blinked rapidly. Having all but expected to be fucked senseless and gutted by now, the veela princess was simply astonished by her lord's level of self-control. After all it was said that the greatest exercise of power is being able to restrain oneself from using it. Harry's unique "exercise of power" was definitely going to leave a lasting impression on her and her fellow veela sisters.

"Wait, milord." Cried the diminutive veela as she leaped forward. She rummaged through her slashed robes on the ground and leapt forward to confront her impatient guest.

"Don't press your luck, your royal highness. I'm not Thanatos and I won't have you so easily turn me into a rapist and murderer, but you are trying my patience." Harry grounded out, sounding every bit the desperate man trying to keep the lid on his psycho persona.

"I know this won't mean much to you now, but you are still our lord. The veela people are yours to command."

"You are right, it doesn't mean much." Harry spat back.

The young veela nodded, sighing deeply as she produced a small packet of parchment and several of those miniature mirrors, which the veela used for communication.

"These contain information, data and tables about the French Veela Enclaves and as well as general histories about our people throughout the ages. Most are unknown to the rest of the world and even many of our own people. They have been charmed so they could be read only you and those who carry your sign." Violette stated. If one compared political diplomacy to a sex competition, then the veela princess's gesture was just about comparable to the defeated competitor going down her knees to give the winner his reward. Who knew politics was so 'dirty'.

But Harry remained motionless, maintaining his cold glare at the veela princess. Finally, Fleur stepped forward and stoically accepted the offered 'gift'. His head, then, whipped around at his Alpha, but Fleur refused to cower, meeting his accusing emerald orbs head on with her unwavering azure eyes. Eventually the male veela softened his glare.

Fleur was of course right. Knowledge was power, which they didn't have as shown by the events of today. Clearly Thanatos's Diary was lacking in some things. Harry bestowed upon his Alpha a grudging smile, but his smile diminished as he saw Princess Mercière being entirely too jovial.

"What are you smiling, your highness? I don't want to see your face ever again! If - and that's a _big_ if - I choose to deal with veela from here on out, I will not be manipulated by the likes of you." Harry bellowed, watching with secret glee as the veela deflated. But his dark amusement was short lived.

"If you do not want to ever be manipulated by me, then I advise you to strike me down here. I will inevitably fail you in that category, milord." Answered the veela with a small sad laugh.

"Excuse me?"

"Unless one lives in complete isolation of others, no can ever be truly free of manipulation either as the subject or as the object. The best one could hope for is to only manipulate and only be manipulated by loved ones."

Violette's soft blue eyes shined brightly with hidden truth and wisdom. Momentarily Harry experienced the déjà vu sensation of being a little stupid, dumb first year kid, standing before an awe inspiring Albus Dumbledore. But something was very different. The veela princess was definitely no Dumbledore and that made Harry pause from unleashing an angry retort.

"Your girls look like they want to perform a dark ritual using my body." Violette noted lightly after a few moments of silence.

"But they won't because they know I won't allow them. It's something called _loyalty,_ which your people could learn about." Harry stated sarcastically. The veela took the low blow fairly well, displaying only the faintest hint of a wince.

"What about if you found out that I was of use to you and that I then end up at your side? Will they accept me or plot against me?" Only Harry's hand signal for peace kept his dynamic French duo down.

"My girls' loyalty isn't the issue here now is it?" Harry barked harshly, pointing all around the room. "And I find that scenario most unlikely given how you aren't exactly my favorite person right now."

"Things might change." Harry thought he vaguely saw an _'I know something you don't'_ look in the girl's eyes, but he shook it off as being a creation of his tired mind.

"… or they might not. This conversation is over. I trust that we will not be further hindered as we leave?" Harry leveled his wand at Violette.

"No, milord. This entire area is warded and outside of French wizarding control. No one outside of here will know about what has happened." Harry's gut feeling was that for once, a veela was being honest. Against perhaps all logic, Harry went with his instinct. And quite frankly, he really didn't want to deal with having a royal hostage.

"Good. Now I don't want you or any of your people trying to contact me. I just might not be in such a forgiving mood the next time around."

Harry Potter spun around and walked towards the large entrance door, stopping midway.

"Princess. I won't forget or forgive what happened this day. It might not be today or tomorrow, and it might not even be by my action… but rest assured that someday, somewhere, somehow… you will pay for this; pay with interests and dividends."

Violette's whole body trembled at Harry's cold and seemingly prophetic words. She could only bow her head in submission as Harry and his girls stumped out of the veela palace. They would leave le Bastion unmolested.

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The Matriarch of the French Veela and her small veela entourage returned to the palace, finding their naked princess conversing softly with the wounded veela known affectionately as _Petit Aconit_.

"Your highness!" The Matriarch called in surprise. "I'm very pleased to see that you are alive."

"For now." Violette only smiled a sad smile, thanking one of the veela as she was offered a coat.

"We saw him leave without damaging a single building or seek out any of our people to prey on." The Matriarch stated with not just a little bit of amazement.

"Then Lavender was right. This Harry Potter truly is extraordinary. The level of control he exerted on himself must have been…" Violette's eyes glazed over as she trailed off. Of all the skills crucial for a normal veela to learn, perhaps none is as physically demanding and emotionally straining as remaining in control of oneself. And it was infinitely more difficult for a male veela, who's at times resembled a force of nature.

Such was the price of power so great that it was outside one's own control. The veela royalty did not envy Harry's place, but then her own position wasn't much better.

Violette ran her hand through Lavender's soft silky blonde hair, feeling reassured with the light moans her action elicited. Lavender always did love, even more than any normal veela, having her hair played with.

The Matriarch looked at the two girls with an expression of profound sadness. Experience had shown both to be far better trained and able than her, but in these moments, the elder veela couldn't help but notice that they were still a couple of young teenage girls; beautiful young teenage girls who under any other circumstances would be having fun with friends their age, chasing or as it were being chased by boys. But instead fate placed far greater duties and far crueler trials on their narrow shoulders.

Violette bent forward to pick up her by now blood stained tiara. She wiped the liquid off with the edge of her coat before donning the royal artifice.

"Call together a joint session of all major commands, _s'il vous plait_. I'll make a full disclosure of today's events and assume full responsibility."

"_Oui, bien sûr, votre altesse." _One of the veela answered in a snap before hurrying off.

An uncomfortable silence followed.

"Will you at least deploy the Phantom Force then, to ensure your safety?"

The princess's reply was crisp and clear, free of hesitation.

"_Non_." Violette held up a hand to stop the flurry of protests.

"Non." She repeated in a softer voice. This time there was no more protest. "Whatever happens, happens."

Instinctively, Violette hugged Lavender close to her. The dying girl whispered something to her friend's ear to which the veela princess nodded once. Violette's extended her hand upon which one of the veela placed a wand. With exaggerated pained slowness, Violette raised her weapon.

"Your highness!" The Matriarch cried in shock, her hand shooting forward to grab Violette's. "Are you giving up?"

The younger veela sighed.

"You can't help her, Celes. And you know that the male veela's bond would slowly and painfully kill her. I failed her already. I won't have her die an agonizing death as well." Lavender made some noise, clearly wanting to protest Violette's act of taking up the blame. For the Matriarch and the other veela it was most disheartening to see their young and dynamic leader in such a hopeless and helpless state.

"Wait, your highness! There might be something you could do."

Violette's wand wielding hand lowered slowly. She looked down at the dying girl in her lap and then up at the Matriarch.

"I'm listening."

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**Inside the Bedchambers of Fleur Delacour…**

Harry wrapped an arm around each of his lovely beauties, pulling their trembling forms to him. Even though his own mind was filled turmoil, the young man sought to sooth his girls with whisperings of sweet nothingness. Amazingly enough, it worked. They soon became more docile, their breath less labored and pained. But alas Harry worked his magic a bit too well.

The male veela's eyes glazed over as he realized his two sexy playmates had turned their attention to other matters. Harry hissed with barely suppressed arousal as his girls rapidly divested him of his clothes while nibbling away at his exposed flesh.

'_So soft and nice.' _But then, a sinking feeling came to him as he looked at Fleur. Harry suddenly couldn't shake the thought of how much she looked and felt like the rest of her kin, like that scheming Comtesse de Noire or that treacherous classmate Lavender Brown. A brief but very real twinge of hatred seized the male veela as he felt his Alpha nuzzling against his chest.

"Now's not a good time, Fleur." Harry stated as he pushed the blonde girl away, his voice betraying a hard edge. It was wrong and he knew that. But like being the helpless spectator of a train wreck he couldn't stop himself.

The push caught the part veela by surprise. Fleur stumbled back and was only saved from a humiliating fall by her friend's quick reaction.

"_Merci_." Fleur muttered a small thanks to Regine, hiding her hurt behind a forced smile. What Harry did was hurtful, cruel and completely irrational. And occurring at her moment of need, Fleur felt the cut to be far deeper and far more painful than Lavender's pitiful slashes.

Shinning tears welled in Fleur's blue eyes as anger mixed with anguish. Born into high society, well bred, well mannered, well schooled, she was Fleur Delacour. She was supposed to be classy, formal and be a pretty porcelain doll. She was supposed to attend balls wearing designer clothes and impossible high heels, while handsome suitors dangled off her arms. She was supposed to live the life of a pampered princess! And everyone around her certainly never dissuaded her of the notion of royal entitlement. She most certainly wasn't supposed to be fighting for her life against fanatics. She most certainly wasn't supposed to clinging onto her man like some silly fan girl and share the love of her life with god knows how many other girls. And she definitely wasn't supposed to just accept being treated like some two bit street prostitute.

Fleur wanted to rage at the injustice done to her person; instead the gorgeous blonde gave her friend a solemn look as she sank to her knees. Harry's statement died as Regine crushed her lips against his. Fleur had rightly figured that her mate would be more receptive of her human friend.

For a moment, the older French girl wondered darkly how was it that she went from the highborn trim and proper princess of not long ago to the kneeing wanton slut she was now. But then Harry's underwear dropped to the floor, revealing his oozing member. The part veela instantly began salivating.

Ah, screw it. Fleur decided that other girls can keep being princesses in their own little world waiting for their Prince Charming. She leaned forward, propping herself on one hand while brushing aside an obstructing strand of light blonde hair with another. She'll _'take'_ her master any day of the week.

**-----LEMON WARNING-----**

Text Cut

**-----END LEMON-----**

Harry and Fleur regained consciousness to see Regine hovering above them. The human girl was clearly tired as well yet still she went about, diligently cleaning the excesses of the couple's exertions the old fashioned way using warm towels. There was just something missing when a cleaning charm was used in the aftermath of such an intimate moment.

Fleur thanked her friend warmly before turning to Harry.

"I didn't know about what they were going to do, 'arry. I swear." She said, her voice cracking slightly. A much more controlled Harry nodded in understanding. He did feel like an arse for letting his Alpha think that somehow he held her responsible for what had happened. But really, Fleur should have known better; she was technically the 'adult'. Of course she wasn't to blame for her kin's actions especially when she had been targeted as well.

"It's alright. You couldn't have known." Harry answered reassuringly as he affectionately nuzzled against his Fleur's back, laying soft kisses all along her neck. His arms wrapped fully around her front as he pulled her willing body into a classic spooning position. Soon after, an exhausted Regine slid behind the male veela, completing the Harry sandwich.

For minutes, the three rested in complete silence.

"'arry. I waz zinking…"

Harry quickly shushed his Alpha by slipping a finger to her lips.

"Think tomorrow. Rest now." With a quick wandless charm, Harry had his and the girls' tangled bodies covered with a large bed sheet.

As he felt his girls slipping away, the young male veela wanted to say something big, something grandiose. He wanted to praise them for how they unflinchingly stood up to the other veela, laud them for how valiantly they fought and applaud them for how well they worked together in those life and death situations. But then Harry thought better of it. Ornamented words wouldn't have done them justice. He settled for a simple statement without any embellishment.

"I'm very proud of you girls."

Tears edged out of Fleur's eyes as she leaned back into Harry as if trying to curl up further against him. It was a difficult task to be sure, but somehow she succeeded. The part veela's heart soared with joy and she knew Regine felt the same.

"_Nous t'aimons_, 'arry."

"_Je vous aimes_, _aussi_." Harry responded in kind, uttering words similar to the words uttered months ago in Beauxbatons's carriage. The three lovers felt their soul burn brightly with loving warmth as they exchanged and renewed an implicit vow with one another. The bonds Harry shared with Fleur and Regine had passed their first test with flying colors and were stronger than ever.

Dumbledore, Voldemort, and all their shenanigan plots and manipulations took second place to Harry Potter's feeling of standing at the top of the world. Yet as the young man allowed the glow of his girls' love lull him into a gentle slumber, he couldn't entirely shake off a cynical thought. It was the thought that those who fell the hardest and those who fell never to rise again were often from the very top and had once led charmed lives as well. In the aftermath of a near catastrophe, the male veela scarcely dared to think about the possibility of losing one of his two present girls. It was an understandable if unfortunate residue hubris of the Boy-Who-Lived turned Boy-Who-Was-Veela.

Ah, if Harry only knew that the non-voluntary turnover rate of Thanatos's personal harem was over 200 in the course of his documented lifetime. But then he was young and must, therefore, be allotted his quota of naïve innocence. Still, he was also the 'male veela' and that fact alone precluded him from being too naïve and too innocent for too long.

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**Translation: **

**Soeur** – Sister

**Donc, je veux que vous, salopes, foutiez le camps sur l'heure et disparaissez de ma vue à tout jamais** – Then I want you cunts to get the hell out of here (now) and (I never want to see you again)

**S'il vous plait** - Please

**Oui, bien sûr, votre altesse** – Yes, of course, your highness.

**Nous t'aimons** – We love you.

**Je vous aimes, aussi** – I love you, too.

**Gaul** – Region of Western Europe which included pre-modern France and Spain.

**Volga** – Located in Western Russia. Refers to the river (or region around the river) that makes up the core of the biggest river system in Europe.


	16. Shadows of the Past

**AN1:** From now on, please use the **_OWL rating_** (Outstanding, Exceeds Expectations, Acceptable, Poor, Dreadful or Troll) to rate each chapter. Additional comments are, of course, always appreciated, but please at least review with one of the aforementioned ratings. It'll give me, at least, a rough idea of what my readers like and don't like.

**AN2:** SEEKING BETA NOW: Need at least one more top notched grammar-spelling beta. Anyone interested should email me directly. (Current Beta 2 adds, _"preferably a beta with an overabundance of estrogen."_ Author concurs with Beta 2's assessment.)

Prospective Betas: As a simple test to see if you are up to it, I'll send out a sample chapter for you to edit. I don't think an English major/minor or whatever, but having some mastery of the English language would definitely help.

**Rating:** M for sexual content, mainly masturbation and some inappropriate voyeurism. (It was supposed to be humorous though)

**Posted: 7/8/2006**

**Betas: Yogert, Lord Sivart**

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**Chapter 16: Shadows of the Past**

The brightly shinning sun painted the spacious bedroom of one, Fleur Delacour, with a heavenly glow as its rested sleeper slowly regained her consciousness. The part veela purred like a kitten as she rolled around on the plush bed. The beautiful girl gave a disappointed pout upon realizing that it was empty. Still, at least memory of the night before remained fresh in her mind… Instinctively, one of Fleur's slender hands traced down to her abdomen, slipping further and further south.

"Oh, 'arry." The part veela moaned passionately, her hips rocking back and forth. Who said only boys got hard in the morning? Fleur threw her head back and thrust her chest forward, pressing her rock hard nipples against her imaginary lover as she exploded.

'_Mon dieu. That was so good.'_ A moment later, the very satisfied French girl opened her crystal blue eyes to the world. It was possibly the first time in years in which the infamous morning temper tantrum didn't rear its ugly head and Fleur rather liked it. The blonde veela smiled broadly as she sat up to stretch her restive limbs…

'_Oh, zut!'_

Fleur's eyes widened as she came face to face with a set of curious and inquisitive azure eyes not dissimilar to her own. Standing beside her bed with her hands crossed behind her, the young angelic girl dimpled cutely.

"Whatcha doing, sis?" This was followed soon after by, "Why are you turning red, sis?" and "Are you going to pass out, sis?"

Fleur chortled incoherently, literally choking on air as her younger sister maintained her curious, inquisitive expression.

"GABRIELLE! What are you doing here!" The older girl shouted, her mouth splattering with drool. Fleur brought her hand forward to chastise the younger girl for entering without knocking only to see that her digits were covered with her own pungent juice. The older teen's blush deepened.

"Mama told me to wake you up. It's almost noon."

The little girl scrunched up her face and pointedly sniffed around. "What's that smell? Were you sexing yourself? I thought there needed to be two people to do that?"

Fleur pulled up the bed sheets around her. Oh god, she felt for sure that she could die right then and there.

"Will you please leave while I get dressed, Gabby?" Pleaded the part - veela to her younger sister in desperation. When she didn't move, Fleur tried again. "Please?"

"Fine, you are no fun." Sighing heavily, Gabrielle acquiesced.

'_What?' _

Fleur widened blue eyes traced the girl's movement to the door. There, Gabrielle spun in place, turning to give her grown sibling an impish grin.

"Mama said to be quick about it. She wants to talk to you and Sister Regine about _Harry Potter_." The small girl giggled at the name of her bigger than life hero. Then as an after thought, she added, "He's really handsome, isn't he? Was he good?"

Fleur pointedly refused to answer, preferring instead to give her annoying and devilish sister the evil eye. Gabrielle stuck her tongue out at her but squealed when her older sister chucked a pillow back. The pint-sized part sprite settled on one final pout before stumping out of the room. The female teenager groaned as she sunk back into her bed.

'_Mama is going to kill me.' _

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"Ah, Fleur, about time you are up. Why don't you come down to join us?" Stated Madame Delacour as she calmly eyed her eldest daughter. It was not a request. Fleur fought the rising surge to panic as she sat down beside a noticeably demure Regine

"Yes, mama."

An uncomfortable silence descended as the two young girls shared one question/hope/fear.

'_Does she know?'_

Amaryllis Delacour looked levelly from one girl to the other, from birth daughter to surrogate daughter, with the unyielding gaze of a martinet schoolmistress. Turning away, she looked at her youngest.

"Gabrielle, can you go to your room please? I have a lot to talk about with your 'sisters'." The young pixie-like child looked at her elders before frowning.

"But I want to stay!"

Fleur panicked. Given what happened less than an hour ago, the older girl felt it most necessarily that her young sibling be far, far away from the grand inquisitor that was their mother. Unfortunately, in her eagerness, she was not particularly careful with her words.

"Gabby, please! Can you go and play with yourself for a bit?"

"Play with myself like what you did?" The little girl asked innocently. "But I don't know how to. Can you show me later?"

Fleur gasped. She saw Regine's blue eyes widening in surprise and horror before fixing a glare of silent condemnation on her person. The part veela groaned, burying her head in her hands as she dared not to look at her mother. Fleur's only consolation was hearing her diabolic mischievous little brat of a sister skip out of the room.

Embarrassed and humiliated beyond belief, all right in the presence of their mother, the two terrified girls scarcely remembered to breath.

"Fleur. You really should remember that there are _'two'_ doors to your room. Same goes for you too, Regine, given how many years you have lived here. I dare say the sight of you ladies along with the English wonder-boy took young Gabrielle by surprise."

Both girls looked down.

"We are sorry, mama."

"Both of you were raised better than this. Both of you are adults now."

"We are sorry." The girls interjected once more, this time with greater sincerity and shame. Mme. Delacour settled back into her chair, swallowing her sharp rebuke. Instead, she continued in a smooth and soft, but nonetheless stern and chastising voice.

"I know you are. Still the facts remain that you two disappear without a trace for over 24 hours. Then, you steal back into the house like thieves and I find you in bed last night with a man. What am I suppose to think? What is your father suppose to think?"

A cold sinking feeling enveloped Fleur. _'Oh, how could I have been as stupid and irresponsible as to forget about my family?'_ She thought, berating herself. Of course, with everything that has happened, she was being a tad harsh on herself.

"Papa?"

"Fortunately, I managed to keep him away for the night. Unfortunately, he caught Regine trying to sneak your man out of the house in the morning. I said nothing, Fleur, but your father is no fool." The Delacour matron stated. "My daughter, do you have any idea what the consequence of your action could be for your father? If the public or worse yet, his political enemies, learn that his eldest daughter committed statutory rape against a foreign national hero…"

The beautiful girl's face turned a sickly pale color at the words 'statutory rape'. Amaryllis sighed.

"You forgot all about that, didn't you? That you are 18 and an adult while he is only 14 and therefore a minor. Admittedly, the wizarding world doesn't particularly care about age of consent laws, but your father is one of the ones pushing for such reforms. It would make a mockery of his efforts if his own flesh and blood was one of the violators. Fleur, did you really think that just because you are beautiful, none of these things matter?"

Fleur's head hung shamefully at her mother's softly worded but no less devastating chastisement as tears threatened to fall from her eyes. A distraught Regine sat beside her, unsure of whether to console her friend or remain mute. She chose the latter.

Madame Delacour frowned. She and her husband did love her daughters deeply, but sometimes she (or more particularly her veela side) wondered if they coddled them too much. Fleur had it way too easy especially when compared to her own childhood or the normal childhood of a 'true' veela. But, then that was the choice she knowingly chose. The first time she bore Henri a daughter, Amaryllis swore that she would raise Fleur with the love and attention of a nurturing and affectionate human mother and not with the cold indifference or calculating manipulation of a veela procreator 'searching for the best and most productive offspring'.

Amaryllis closed her eyes, recalling how her own flesh and blood mother, a pure veela, dumped her before her 10th birthday before the shadowy veela state, to be raised as they saw fit. To be sure, it was standard practice then and even now, but that knowledge provided her with neither comfort nor reassurance. Her existence had been harsh if not downright gruesome. The things she bore witness to, the things she did at age no one should have ever had to do.

Bitterness welled up within the older Delacour. She remembered with perfect clarity the fate that befell her best friend and closest classmate at the veela academy decades ago. Her friend had been far too carefree at a time when discretion was called for and had invoked the ire of the most powerful veela in France at the time.

That figure was General then Matriarch Mercière, predecessor to the current Veela Matriarch of France. Like most of the veela governance and command positions, the particular attributes and abilities of the veela in power mattered. While the current Matriarch was comparatively 'weak', her predecessor had power in spades; Mercière ruled as a virtual dictator. And while brilliant and competent, she was also excessively warlike and prone to acts of vicious barbarity.

Matriarch Mercière had decided to make an object lesson of Amaryllis's upstart friend in an exhibition death match before the veela - and only the veela - public. Her friend was a mediocre duelist at best. Matriarch Mercière could have ended it with the first couple of exchanges, but she stretched the match to last almost an hour.

Mme. Delacour smiled with a combination of genuine sadness and a touch of dark humor, recalling how it took five of her classmates to hold her down.

That was ages ago, of course, and things had changed, but the memories still lingered. And for a veela, memories never fade. Whether they invoke joy or pain, love or hate, they are always there, existing just beneath the surface, ready to be drawn up at a moment's notice.

Fortunately, Matriarch Mercière was long dead and rotting in a shallow grave. Unfortunately, she was able to breed just before she died. From what Amaryllis Delacour gathered, the current Princess was one of the late Matriarch's daughters. Already at her young age, the veela royalty was displaying the kind of craftiness and insight that made her mother great. Princess Mercière had successfully extended her royal authority while retaining full command of the powerful _La Brigade Fantôme_, the Phantom Brigade. The result of which was that real power within the French Veela Enclaves shifted dramatically over to her royal personage. And God forbid she be anything like her vengeful and malicious mother.

This was ultimately why the Delacour matriarch swore to keep her family away from her race; to keep them free of the taint of her people's violent past and their barbaric and perverse Darwinian practices. And if it meant keeping her husband ignorant about her own past and her daughters clueless about their heritage, then so be it. After all, it was the right choice…

Wasn't it?

"What did papa do?" Fleur's question pulled her mother from her contemplative reverie.

"Nothing."

"Fleur, remember who your father is and what he does for a living. Whatever his feelings, your father did not get to where he is today by acting hastily. Beside, he realized who would end up taking the fall if news of your relationship was made public too fast." Here, Amaryllis turned to look at her surrogate daughter. "Henri and I were, first and foremost, concerned about the well being of you two. Harry Potter is, after all, very young and very famous. What if he was just using you and leaves you for the next –"

"_Non_, 'arry won't do that!" Fleur declared heatedly, jumping immediately to her mate's defense. Mme. Delacour arched an eye brow at her daughter.

"You seem quite sure of that. Do you agree, Regine?" The other girl nodded grimly without hesitation.

"Absolutely. Harry is not that kind of guy."

Fleur looked levelly at her mother.

"I love him, mother. He is the '_one'_. If he chooses to leave me…" Briefly, Fleur seemed to choke at the thought of her mate consciously leaving her, but she pushed the disturbing thought away. "…If he chooses to leave me then fine, but I will not leave him. And nothing you or papa say or do can change that." Regine quickly backed Fleur up, though the human girl did look taken aback by her friend's declaration to remaining unrequitedly loyal.

Seeing the girls' unwavering determination and resolve, Amaryllis finally softened her steady gaze before chuckling. She eyed them from one to the other until there could be no doubt to what she was thinking about.

"I was wondering where Gabrielle picked up her new vocabulary. She almost gave your father a stroke when she asked what a _'ménage à trois' _was not too long ago."

Mme. Delacour waved off the girls' immediate protests.

"It's alright. I can't say I am _happy_ but I understand what it is like to be young and in love…"

"Mama?" Fleur inquired timidly as she looked to see her mother smiling benevolently.

"I was a young veela once too." The married woman answered mysteriously, her crystal blue eyes shinning with mirth at her two 'daughters'.

"In this case, however, I suppose you two could be right. There is more to this Harry Potter character than what meets the eye. He didn't try to run or fight when my husband confronted him. And while young Mr. Potter didn't offer any information, he did take responsibility for his actions. He also made similar declarations of love and even reassured Henri that he had no intentions of ruining his political career."

"Where are they now?" Asked Regine anxiously.

"It appears that somehow, the British and French paparazzi learned about young Harry Potter's cross-channel journey. The news is creating a storm between officials from the two magical communities so he accompanied Henri to Paris to help calm things down. Of course, none of this explains why Blanche was so interested in you girls and your boyfriend."

Amaryllis frowned as Fleur and Regine visibly paled at the mention of the prominent veela's name.

"What's wrong, girls?" The woman asked with genuine concern.

"You know her, mama?" Fleur ventured, her voice edgy and carrying a touch of suspicion. Mme. Delacour nodded slowly.

"I knew Comtesse de Noire from a long, long time ago, though I haven't personally seen her in years until recently."

"Who is she?" Fleur demanded immediately in a voice that quite frankly alarmed her mother.

"Blanche Belladonna de Noire is a renowned veela of high standing…" Amaryllis began slowly. "When the last Matriarch of the French Veela Enclaves, a particularly powerful and influential woman, died, Blanche took over many of her functions. She also carried in her own right the wizarding aristocratic title of Comtesse de Noire, or Countess of Black, through a distant blood connection. In theory, this made her the senior head of the Anglo-Franco **'_Noble and Most Ancient House of Black'_**. "

"In theory?" Regine asked. Mme. Delacour smiled at the young adult's question. The human girl who was to her a third daughter always did have a knock for being unusually keen in political affairs, much to the delight of her husband.

"Due to her pure veela genotype, the human exclusive wizarding world has restricted many of her special privileges. For example, in theory Blanche was entitled to hereditary seats on the International Confederation of Wizards and the French Parlement de Magique. But the governing committees of both organizations blocked her presence and prohibited her from appointing a proxy in her place."

"That doesn't sound fair." Fleur said with a slight frown. The part veela had no love for the other woman but the very concept of such blatant racism seemed very distasteful.

"Life rarely is my dear daughter. Prejudice and racism runs deep throughout the wizarding world. No non-human whether veela, vampire, werewolf or other has been allowed to hold real substantive power in the governments of wizards for well over half a century." Mme. Delacour stated sagely.

"But how come you never talked about her, mama?" Fleur asked.

Amaryllis Delacour winced at the question. Ordinarily the Delacour matron would be looking for an escape route but this time, she felt a compelling need to be entirely truthful.

"My past is not something I'm always proud of. Before I met your father and left the veela community, I was one of Comtesse de Noire's top lieutenants."

The two young girls gaped at Mme. Delacour, their perception of this homely family woman forever shattered.

"You worked for that bitch!"

"Fleur Delacour! Watch your language!" The elder veela admonished harshly, but Fleur refused to back down.

"I will do no such thing! She and some of her people tried to kill Regine and me so that she could be Harry's alpha!" The blonde part veela shouted, her eyes ablaze with righteous anger and fury. Her daughter's declaration sent Amaryllis reeling backwards. _'Kill! Alpha! By the powers that be, could it be!'_

"Harry Potter is a male veela and I'm his Alpha." Fleur declared proudly.

"'Mama,' what else have you not told us?" Regine probed. But Mme. Delacour, whose face was ashen with shock, was in no condition to answer.

"No, no it can't be. I must, I need to speak with her immediately…"

"She's dead. Comtesse de Noire is dead. I killed her." Regine interjected, speaking with an indifferent coldness that surprised even herself. It was slightly untrue as the comtesse had actually impaled herself, but that was a minor technicality. Mme. Delacour's head whipped around so fast that it was a miracle that it didn't come unhinged. _'Impossible! Blanche was the very best…'_

"What's going on here?" Fleur asked.

"I'm so very sorry, Fleur, my daughter." The normally composed and regal wife of the upstanding French wizard, Henri Delacour, looked sad and broken. "I kept so much from you thinking that I was protecting you. But it seems that I very nearly killed you instead. If I had only known who he was…if…"

Seeing Fleur and Regine's looks of bewilderment, Mme. Delacour forced herself to slow down.

"Maybe, maybe I should start at the beginning… about what it means to be a veela…"

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The roles were reversed. Now Amaryllis Delacour was the calm one while the girls, specifically Fleur, were the ones who were a bundle of nerves.

"…it is in his blood now, my dear daughter, just as you are veela by blood. I have only myself to blame for your ignorance. If I didn't try to keep you in the dark, you would realize what I'm saying." The oldest Delacour female said sadly.

"… And no, these things would not be found in any wizarding text no matter how hard you searched. Long ago, our veela ancestors decided as a people to cover up our past and hide it from the human world. They did what they had to do… to protect themselves and their posterities from extermination…"

"You have no idea about the trials we go through just to keep our race from being placed under the 'dark creature' label by wizarding ministries from around the world." Mme. Delacour stated rather mournfully.

"So what are we? Demons?" Fleur asked in disbelief.

"In a matter of speaking… yes. Or at least descendants of which."

"And what about Harry then?" Regine asked. Amaryllis eyed her human daughter thoughtfully.

"Your Harry would be akin to a demon only if we veela were actually angels"

"What!"

Without further ado, Mme. Delacour began listing in a dry voice the statistical data known about the past male veela.

On and on the list went…

"Non, non, stop, stop! It can't be…" Fleur finally shouted as she glared accusingly at her own mother. "Harry is not a bloodthirsty murderer nor is he a serial rapist. He's a sweet young man."

Fleur steadfastly refused to believe what her mother was communicating. The very idea that male veela were inherently rampaging blood lusting homicidal fiends was absurd.

"You weren't there when I cornered him, mama; when I almost raped him. Yet when the roles were reversed, he didn't reciprocate. All he did was to beg me to release him… Is, is that the actions of a rapist, mother?" Demanded the teenage girl icily.

Amaryllis wanted to say something about her daughter's deficiency in discipline for having attempted to mate an underage wizard to herself and her clear lack of respect for elders, but didn't. She knew now wasn't the time for that.

"I suppose not." Mme. Delacour admitted.

Fleur's blue eyes shinned in triumph.

"But what if he becomes that over time. What will you do?" Amaryllis elaborated upon seeing her daughter's confused expression. "The roles of the Alpha include anticipating and actively seeking to fulfill the desires of the male veela whatever they may be. Can you do that? And I don't mean just sharing him sexually. The sacrifices you will be called upon to make will be immense."

"What are you saying, mama?" Fleur was rather started by her normally warm and sympathetic mother's clinically dry words.

"There is a good reason why some veela believe only their own are worthy and able to mate with a 'male veela'. It's fine that you say you love Harry and that Harry loves you. But do you really think you are suited to be his Alpha, any better than Regine here for instance?" The human girl in question looked at Mme. Delacour strangely while Fleur looked outraged.

"I mean to say that despite being born a quarter veela, you haven't been raised as one. You haven't been raised to take on these kinds of responsibilities." Now that was perhaps the best euphemism for 'you are a spoiled brat' anyone had ever come up with. At least, Mme. Delacour implicitly held herself accountable as well.

Fleur was wearing an angry shade of red. She couldn't believe her own mother was saying these things to her. Wasn't one's parent supposed to be supportive, not confrontational?

"What do you want me to do, mother? Give up Harry? Is that it?" Asked the part veela, her voice laced with hurt and pain.

"If necessary, then yes! Fleur, I never knew my mother because veela mothers weren't supposed to cuddle their daughters. It was a dangerous time and mentally, my veela friends and I all matured very early. When I was not much older than Gabrielle, I began training for a secret combat unit. I first drew blood at age 12 and saw my best friend die in front of my eyes two years later…" Mme. Delacour stated.

"I almost saw my best friend die just yesterday." Fleur noted, cutting in while looking at Regine.

The recently graduated Beauxbatons prefect returned the look and reached over. On a whim, she did the first thing that popped into her mind. Ignoring – or was it forgetting? – the presence of Amaryllis Delacour, the human girl liplocked Fleur without preamble. Yep, a big, juicy, semi-passionate kiss right in front of her adoptive mother. A big juicy semi-passionate kiss which the part veela replied instinctively in kind.

Needless to say, Regine had a horrified but very amusing look on her face when she finally did realize what she did. Blushing a fierce red, the human girl quickly made her escape without looking at either Fleur or Mme. Delacour. Fleur scowled at her friend for abandoning her to her mother alone. Fortunately for her Amaryllis took it all in stride. The Delacour matron rose up and embraced her daughter warmly, kissing her forehead tenderly to show her unwavering love.

"While I would hope that you and Regine won't do that in front of your father – he still thinks of you two as his little girls – I want to say that you three have my support." Amaryllis withheld her desire to chuckle at her daughter's dumbfounded expression. "What? You don't think your old mother would know such things?"

"Ahm, no, I mean, yes. I mean… why?" At this point Fleur was one exasperated veela as shown by her pout.

"Your father and I both want you to be happy and I recognize your needs as veela and a young one at that. I will do what I can to make him see."

"Oh, thank you, mama."

"BUT! I also want you to be alive a couple of years down the line. It will not be easy being one of the male veela's girls; much less his Alpha." Mme. Delacour intoned seriously. "The relationship will be rocky, draining, and the dangers to your physical and mental health will be very real. And then there is _Harry Potter_. If the wizarding world has any idea what that young man is, what he is capable of and what his predecessors did, they will do everything they can to make sure that he's dead before his next birthday… irregardless of his status as the Boy-Who-Lived."

To Mme. Delacour's surprise, Fleur did not react with shock or horror. Instead, her daughter's azure eyes shinned brightly with determination.

"Then tell me about people who can help."

"I figure that you must still know some trust worthy people from the veela enclaves, mama. I won't forget what Comtesse de Noire did and tried to do, but I also know the veela can help protect Harry." The more she thought about this, the more Fleur knew that this was the right choice.

"I know Regine and Harry won't be happy about me asking for the veela's help, but I think I would be negligent in fulfilling my duties if I didn't at least consider this." Mme. Delacour pulled away and looked at her daughter appraisingly.

"I know I haven't said this often enough, but I truly am proud to have a daughter like you." The Delacour matron declared with visible pride. Often times during motherhood, Amaryllis had felt the conflicting pulls of her human and veela heritage. Often times, she felt uncertainly over the manner in which she raised her younglings but seeing the results before her greatly alleviated her concerns. Surely she must have done something correct if her daughter was the one chosen for the lofty and reverent post of being Alpha to the legendary male veela.

"I promise to do what I can, my daughter."

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**French Ministry of Magic, Paris…**

"_Merci, merci tout le monde_. I believe that is enough questions for Monsieur Potter."

Harry Potter gave Henri Delacour a guarded polite smile as the French gentleman led him away from the throng of reporters. The young male veela warily eyed his French benefactor.

"Quite impressive display back there… for an _Englishman_." The French politician spoke in thick accented English. His nose turned slightly upward as he said the word 'Englishman' as if the word was vaguely indigestible.

Henri Delacour definitely did not 'like' him. Harry strongly suspected that it had something to do with him concurrently banging his daughters; one biological and the other adoptive.

The male veela bristled at the thought. But wait, why was he on the defensive? Both girls were his after all and Fleur was his Alpha. He needed to justify himself and his actions to no one, especially not some patronizing French politician. Fortunately, Harry quickly reigned in his rapidly building testosterone imbalance, avoiding a potentially undesirable confrontation. Whatever the case may be, the last thing he needed was to get into a firefight with one of his girls' parents.

"Thank you, sir."

The two walked on silently. Finally as if having finally gathered up his courage, Henri spoke.

"I wish to thank you, Monsieur Potter, for being discreet."

Harry smiled. His 'meet the press' appearance had gone as well as expected. With relative ease, he had deflected both French and English concerns about his impromptu visit with a diplomatic version of 'none of your business' comment. At the same time, The-Boy-Who-Lived gave a small but distinct diplomatic nod to the French Senior Deputy Minister of Magical Defense, thanking him for assisting him in his until then clandestine trip.

'… _Probably why he hasn't tried to throw me in jail yet.'_ Harry realized. After all, he, the Boy-Who-Lived had all but publicly endorsed the Frenchman. And Henri, a career politician, most certainly wasn't one to miss such an important gesture. Still, that didn't mean the man was enamored with the British wizarding hero. Sharp eyes stared coldly at Harry, but the young man refused to be cowed. The Mexican stand off might have continued had not a voice called out.

"Henri…" Mr. Delacour blinked one second and was pulled into a hug the next.

"Aris, how are you?" Harry took a half step back to observe the two grown men converse amicably.

"Good and you my friend?" Henri lazily motioned towards Harry before uttering with curled lips.

"Business."

"O là-là, Monsieur Harry Potter. You are quite the young man. The governments of England seemed ready to wage World War III over you. It's rumored that Monsieur Dumbledore, the head of the Wizengamot, will come to France himself." In a distinctly ungentleman-like manner, Henri half-coughed, half-snorted.

"My friend here is not an admirer of your headmaster, I'm afraid." The newcomer answered with a laugh. Turning slightly more serious, he added, "But then he is not alone in carrying that opinion. Albus Dumbledore is not nearly as revered outside your country as your countrymen would think."

"I'll keep that in mind. But I'm sorry, I don't think I know your name, sir."

"Oh, none of that. You can call me Aristide any time, Monsieur Potter." The man said jovially. "And fluent in French? Very impressive."

In contrast to Henri's semi-sour expression, the new Frenchman's bonhommie disposition was a very refreshing change, though it did make Harry very curious.

"I know all about you, however. My youngest daughter couldn't stop talking about you since coming back from Hogwarts."

Harry looked puzzled, but only for a moment. His mind quickly deduced who that daughter might be. His eyes widened in realization just as Aristide's expression turning solemn. "I can't thank you enough for what you did for my little Sophia."

"It was nothing, sir. I only did what a normal person should have done. I want to apologize for my classmates. What they tried to do was absolutely inexcusable!" Both grown men blinked at Harry's rather impassionate declaration. Aristide smiled broadly, while Henri looked visibly impressed and distinctively less sour.

"You are a very impressive young man, Monsieur Potter. And to think you are only fourteen?"

"Almost fifteen. And it's Harry, please." Harry stated with a congenial smile of his own. If it was even possible, the Frenchman smiled wider.

"Very impressive young man indeed. I would normally insist that you visit my family and dine with us but ..."

"Is something the matter, Aris? I thought your family was spending some time in Germany and the Netherlands?"

With shocking rapidity, the smiling French wizard deflated.

"My other older daughter seemed to have disappeared…" At the others' concerned expression, Aristide casually waved his hand. "It's alright. Not the first time. If you were older, I would be tempted to introduce you to her, Harry. She could use someone mature in her life, someone who could help bring her stability."

Harry looked at Aristide in amazement. He was an orphaned child living with hated and hating relatives, openly hunted by the Dark Lord and currently shacked up with two older French girls whose father was less than five feet away and this man thinks he would bring his daughter 'stability'? Wisely, the young man only nodded and smiled, reframing from comment.

"I know I'm biased, but I do think she is very beautiful and I completely realize that young teenagers these days are very energetic and independent but… sometimes I do wonder if it's a bit excessive. She goes away in the middle of the night and disappears for entire weeks. What is a father to do? Henri, you really must tell me how you get your daughters to be so well behaved…"

Harry chanced a look at Henri and winced. Not good.

"Henri, you alright? You are turning a bit red in the…"

"I'm fine, just fine!" Mr. Delacour was indeed slowly turning red in the cheeks and adamantly refused to meet Harry in the eye.

"Oh, look at the time. I better be going. Harry, wonderful to finally meet you. Please do drop by sometime if you are ever in France again. Henri, make sure he comes back." Aristide stated laughingly. "Take care."

"Certainly. You, too." Harry answered as the French wizard walked off, leaving behind him and the quietly contemplating Delacour patriarch. Henri gave the young man one long lasting gaze before speaking.

"I better bring you home before the ladies worry." The small, barely perceptible, trace of humor did much to alleviate Harry's if not worry then concern. But just as things were going well, an oh so familiar voice ranged out.

"Harry, my boy!"

The Boy-Who-Lived resisted the urge to cover his face with his hands. Beside him, Henri Delacour muttered the name with obvious distaste.

"Dumbledore."

"Bonjour, headmaster." Harry greeted with artificial warmth that did not reach his eyes. Henri caught the brief flash of pleading in the young English wizard's eyes.

"Monsieur Dumbledore. I'm sorry, but Harry and I would like to leave as soon as possible." Harry masked his surprise at the unexpected support. It would seem that whatever Mr. Delacour thought of him, the French politician was willing to join ranks against their latest opponent. But Albus was not so easily dissuaded. With twinkling blue eyes and a quirky smile, he pressed on.

"Henri, lovely to see you again. I was hoping to have a word with Harry here in private if it's not too much trouble." While Henri seemed quite willing to press the point, Harry decided that he had better humor the old man.

"It's alright, Monsieur Delacour. I'm sure this won't take long." Henri Delacour, clearly unused to being dismissed by a kid one third his age, gave a jerky nod before slinking away.

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"Harry, my boy…" The aged headmaster began after quietly erecting a proximity silence charm.

The male veela gritted his teeth. That was all Harry needed to know to realize that Albus Dumbledore had no intensions of dealing with him on equal footing. A normal person did not call an equal 'his boy'. Such language was reserved for either between parents and children and superiors and subordinates.

"I know the experience of seeing Voldemort's rebirth has been traumatic for you, but I'm very disappointed in how you are expressing your emotions. You leave your home and travel to another country without a note to anyone. And last year, you deliberately provoked your classmates and a professor."

"It was Snape! And I can't send a note because I believe someone had my owl mail blocked."

"Professor Snape." The elderly wizard corrected gently.

"I apologize about the lack of messages. It was for your safety. With the rebirth of Voldemort, I thought it best that you keep a low profile. I apologize for not informing you. Nevertheless, it is not safe for you to be out and about. You must return to your relatives' home immediately." Albus insisted firmly.

'_Apologize my ass…' _At that point, Harry all but blocked out the rest of Dumbledore's patronizing little speech.

"My French friends wanted me to visit and I was eager to get away for a bit so I came. Though, I'm curious how you found out I left my home and came to Paris." Harry interjected rather rudely. Alas, the old schoolmaster was much too cunning to fall for such an obvious dig. Predictably, he avoided Harry's questions.

"I'm disappointed in you, Harry. To think you would put yourself in danger liked this." The male veela resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What a weak come back.

"And I you for feeding me this crap."

"Excuse me?"

Harry gave a none-too-amused smile at his headmaster expression of genuine surprise.

"We are in France. I'm a guest of a high profile French wizard. If Voldemort can get to me here, then I think you may have bigger problems, especially given your image issues. Monsieur Delacour doesn't seem particularly fond of you and I don't think he is alone."

Albus Dumbledore frowned slightly as he looked at Harry. Rather than answering the young man's most profound and true assessment, he deferred.

"Would one of your friends happen to be Mr. Delacour's veela daughter?"

"Yes, it would. We became rather good friends after the tournament."

"Harry, there are many exotic creatures and beings in the magic world. Some are truly beautiful and blessed companions." Here Dumbledore turned to stroke his faithful phoenix's plum feathers. "Others however should be approached with due caution. I strongly counsel you to be careful of whom you keep company with."

It would be simple for Harry to dismiss Dumbledore's remark on this as well, but given recent events the young man couldn't help but find the aged wizard's words to be rather chilling. Did his headmaster have some similar experience with the French veela?

"Fleur has been nothing but helpful, sir. She even helped me learn some French." No, that was a lie. Between various texts he acquired and the male veela's natural aptitude for certain skills, Harry pretty much picked up the French language himself. "And with all due respect I don't see how it's any of your business who I'm friends with."

"Harry, I'm your headmaster. It is my duty to look after my students' wellbeing. Ms. Delacour's presence last year did draw a number of complaints."

Harry found himself caught between a rock and a hard place. On one hand he still didn't really like Albus. On the other hand, it wasn't like he could transfer to Beauxbatons. Doing so after the events in _Le Bastion_ would be tantamount to jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. It would be absolutely foolish of him to put himself in such close proximity to the secretive but clearly powerful and influential French veela. But…

'_He doesn't have to know that, now do he._' Harry thought shrewdly.

"Then I can always transfer, headmaster. I have been told that both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang accepted transfer students." Harry's thinly veiled threat gave Dumbledore sufficient pause. The vanquisher of Grindelward swallowed once before speaking again, but this time in a more controlled and deferential manner rather than in his normal grandfatherly and (at least to Harry) patronizing tone. Clearly he realized a change of tactics was called for.

"That's a shame." Albus paused, taking his time to draw up his response. "In continuing with the Tri-Wizard's spirit of cooperation and friendly competition, I had made plans to set up an exchange students program with Beauxbatons for the coming year. Sadly Durmstrang had begged exemption. So, in light of your strong friendship with our European colleagues, I was hoping that you could serve as a role model for Hogwarts' student body and … its other prefects."

Harry eyebrows arched. "Other prefects…"

Dumbledore smiled.

"Despite everything, you have been an outstanding student, classmate and host this last year. No one deserves to be prefect more than you, Harry. Though I was hoping the news would reach you under more pleasant circumstances…"

'_Resorting to bribery?'_ Harry had to admit: The old man knew how to play the game.

"I know I have let you down in the past…"

"Like failing to catch a Death Eater who was right under your very nose?"

"I admit; failing to catch Crouch was a grave lapse of judicious judgment on my part. Forgive an old man's mistake. I promise that I'll try to make it up for you, Harry"

A promise that most likely amounted to nothing.

"I wasn't talking about Crouch Jr." Harry answered leveled, his sharp green eyes swirled to meet the shimmering blue ones of his headmaster. The young man calmly turned away only as he felt the prickling sensation of his mental shields being probed. As no answer from Albus was forthcoming, Harry gave his response, which was the only one he could realistic give.

"I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask." The headmaster stated in the much too jovial tone of a man who knew he had won the current round. That was true; Harry was not going to quit Hogwarts. But then, given the young wizard's precarious position, which was that he in fact couldn't just leave Hogwarts (not yet at least), it was quite impressive how he managed to extract any concessions from Dumbledore at all.

"Just to assuage an old man's weak heart, when will you be returning home, Harry?"

Home? What home? Four, Privet Drive was not his home and the Dursleys were not his family. Harry found it curious how easily Dumbledore moved between the image of a sympathy worthy old man who sought the guidance and reassurances of those around him to that of a potent wizard in complete control of his surrounding. Now if only _he_ could turn himself on and off like that…

"Soon, a day or two at most. It would seem that I have outlived my stay." Harry watched the slightly agitated Monsieur Delacour pacing from some distances away. "_Salute_, headmaster. Have a good day, sir."

"You too, Harry." Albus answered in kind before walking off. Henri returned to Harry's side soon after all the while eyeing the headmaster's retreating form with great suspicion.

"Ready to go, Monsieur Potter?"

"Please, sir."

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**Across the English Channel…**

A tall broad shouldered male with pedigreed aristocratic features and dressed in impeccable formal wizarding attire stepped out of the door way of the Minister of Magic's office. Clad in custom tailored robes, with a crown of finely combed fair hair and a highly ornamented cane in hand, the man's very countenance just screamed 'arrogant stuck-up pureblood here, mudblood keep away'. Currently, the wizard looked decidedly sour now.

Lucius frowned. Fudge had been much less cooperative than expected.

Now, despite what some may think, Fudge was no Dark Lord supporter or even a shameless corrupt money grabber. Had he not gone into politics, the mid-aged and slightly balding wizard would have been a normal upstanding citizen. But alas, this simpleton of no exceptional value made a bid for political office. And in this den of serpents, Fudge had to walk right into possibly the most vile of them all, Lucius Malfoy.

The idea Lucius set forth and Voldemort wholeheartedly approved was rather ingenious. Rather than seeking to control the Minister of Magic directly via blackmail or bribe - both of which could backfire should the nature of the deal be made public – Lucius chose to ingratiate himself to Fudge's good will. And so the highest level of the wizarding organization most responsible for defending against the Dark Lord was infiltrated by the top agent of said Dark Lord. It was, by all regards, a perfect plan and a worthy testimony to Odysseus's Trojan horse legacy.

Too bad Lucy missed the part about Fudge being tied to the hip to Dumbledore. Despite the visible tension between the two over the issue of Voldemort's rebirth, both the Hogwarts headmaster and the Minister of Magic reframed from issuing public statements against one another. Incidentally, the sublime nature of Lucius's relationship with Fudge and the Minister's Office which kept him publically clear also limited his ability to exact direct influence. In a momentary lapse of intelligence, the frustrated elder Malfoy had insisted rather forcefully with a mix of bribery and threat that Fudge move against Dumbledore and the outrageously slanderous statements made by the Boy-Who-Lived. But rather than caving in, Fudge had turned an interesting shade of red as he launched a rather scathing attack on his strongest political supporter.

Realizing his mistake, Lucius Malfoy hastily made his humiliating exit. No, the minister was a dead end.

But the head of the Malfoy name and fortune was not without access to other assets. If Lucius remembered correctly, he did know a few rather interesting figures working for the _Daily Prophet_. And Rookwood might yet have some contacts in the Department of Mysteries. Too bad he was still stuck in that hellhole, Azkaban. Lucius wondered if he should proposition to his lord that they move up the current timetables…

Either way, his master was not going to be pleased. Lucius had reassured him that the minister would be a perfectly malleable puppet. Fortunately he was more successful in his other assigned task, so maybe his lord would spare him or better yet, not even notice this little failure. Lucius fervidly hoped that was the case; he was definitely not looking forward to another dose of the Cruciatus.

"Mr. Malfoy."

"Madame Umbridge! What a pleasant surprise." The sight of Fudge's senior under secretary was definitely a surprise, but to call the female toad, 'pleasant' even indirectly? Surely not even a blind muggle would commit such a crime against nature.

Lucius planted an artificial charming smile on his face as he greeted the ugly woman.

"Just the man I was looking for?" The fat woman exclaimed with disgusting glee. "Look at this… it's that _boy_ again and this time with the French." Without waiting for a response, Umbridge slapped the piece of newspaper down under Lucius's nose.

The bolded title front and center read: _'The Boy-Who-Lived and the French Connection?'_ On the same page was an almost life size wizarding photo of the one and only Harry Potter, chatting amicably with a handsome older man in stately robes. Right under it was the caption: _'Harry James Potter, better known as the Boy-Who-Lived for his role in the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was recently sighted in Paris. Seen beside him was France's Senior Deputy Minister of Magical Defense, Henri Françoise Delacour.'_

"Someone needs to lock him up and throw away the key." The woman fumed aloud.

"Indeed?" Malfoy supplied helpfully. This was interesting.

"And to think who he associate himself with. Did you know that Mr. Delacour took a veela as his wife?" The toad-like woman whispered, as if talking about something so utterly scandalous that she dared not raise her voice. Malfoy nodded once, a small frown on his face.

To be entirely correct, Henri took a half-veela who was half human as his wife but the effect was the same within the xenophobic, exclusive upper-class community of France's ruling families. Sure, it was one thing for the powerful and wealthy to take (or try to take) veela as mistresses or paramours however hypocritical such acts were; it was another to fly so brazenly in the face of tradition by taking one as a mate of equal standing.

"… And to think that family now has made two more of those spawns… simply despicable. I believe one of them was allowed to compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year. She should have been disqualified. A veela is not a witch I tell you! They aren't like us." The woman insisted with righteous indignation. Lucius allowed the briefest of a genuine smile to show. Not surprising. There was something rather humorous about a fat, short, ugly and toad-faced woman complaining about the deficiencies of girls who were slim, tall, beautiful and just about model perfect.

"No idea what Dumbledore was thinking. Did you know that he tried to talk the minister out of enacting several measures to combat the recent rise in werewolf violence? Something about infringing upon their 'natural rights'. What rights I say?"

Lucius's eyes glowed with pleasure at the secretary's impassionate words. Now that was rather interesting...

"Do you know what I think?" The wizard had a good idea but shook his head nonetheless.

"I think we should have done away with them right after we took care of the vampires. Already there are no more blood suckers to drain our citizenry dry or avian harlots to steal our youth and riddle them with diseases. We are free of two of the three major non-human species that plague the magical world. Wouldn't it be wonderful if one day Britain could be the first 'human only' wizarding nation in the world?" Umbridge wondered with unconcealed glee.

'_Very interesting indeed.'_ The elder Malfoy was definitely no lover of werewolves and viewed their species with barely concealed distain. But people like his associate, Fenrir Greyback did have some uses. Expendable cannon fodder was the term the Dark Lord most recently used.

"A glorious day. But I wonder how could it be done? There are simply so many of those vile cursed creatures amongst us. Even the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts, the most prestigious of our magical institutions, hired, without the knowledge of the Board of Governors whatsoever, one of those fellows two years back. As a member of the board and a father of a child myself, I found the news…most alarming." Lucius's afflicted tone of mocking desperation was so genuine that he almost fooled himself. Alas, the extra effort was wasted on the likes of Umbridge.

"Dear Merlin, a werewolf in a school of children! To think Dumbledore would have the gall!" The woman cried, clenching and unclenching her fists in silent fury. Talk of the incident touched a raw nerve in the ministry woman. The under-secretary had wanted to have the headmaster's head and only her superior's firm rebuke had kept her in check. "I swear to you, Mr. Malfoy that if only I was at Hogwarts, I would work tirelessly to stop all this shenanigans and set him and that boy of his straight. You have my word on that!"

"I'm sure of that, ma'am." Lucius Malfoy had a very wide smile on his face as he shook hands with the Senior Undersecretary. Not long after, the pureblood wizard begged his leave and the two parted ways under very amicable terms.

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Lucius stalked through the dark forsaken corridors of the Dark Lord's hidden base with broad thundering steps. Lowly Death Eaters along the way scurried away like frightened little rats. The Malfoy patriarch sneered at their cowering forms as his own chest puffed out with the self-import of a man on a mission. That was true… in a manner of speaking. The elder Malfoy had been assigned a task that the Dark Lord wanted completed 'with utmost urgency and secrecy'.

It was not easy, but he, Lucius Malfoy, had succeeded. Giving the carefully packaged object inside the folds of his robes one last tug, for assurance, the wizarding aristocrat pushed the door into his master's throne room open.

"Milord." Lucius dropped to his knees with as much dignity as the situation allowed, which wasn't much.

"Do you have it?" The cold voice hissed, the promise of venomous pain hung in the air.

"Y-yes milord." Red serpentine eyes glowed. The package disappeared almost instantly from Lucius's outstretched hands.

"**_Denudo!"_** The Dark Lord tapped his wand twice and a gentle glow blue glow surrounded the object signaling a scanning spell take effect.

Nothing.

As ordered, Malfoy didn't look. But lack of action hardly indicated lack of intent.

"You didn't think about looking to see what it was, have you, my dear Lucius?" Voldemort spoke as he stroked his precious find as he settled comfortably back in his throne.

"No, of course not, milord. Your orders were crystal clear!" The politically powerful and charismatic wizard barked forcibly with just a hint of servile indignation, as if taking offense to his lord suggestion about his fidelity. Ah, but here was where Lucius made his first mistake. Voldemort was no fool.

"Lucius, Lucius, you forget that Lord Voldemort knows everything." The Dark Lord crowed as if chastising a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"You wanted to, but your fear, your fear of what your master would do to you kept you from doing so. Isn't that right?" The light reflected off the edge of the wand Voldemort kept loosely by his side. Lucius nodded twice, with an ashen face slowly and gulping breath.

The curse that he expected never came. Amused blood red eyes gazed at him as Lucius wondered how he wasn't withering on the ground in pain.

"You are in luck today, Lucius, as even you can not ruin my good mood." Voldemort then turned his head sideways.

"Well, my friend?"

The elder Malfoy was confused why his master was speaking to the wall when a figure stepped in from the shadows. Pale skin, dead eyes, and two prominent incisors arcing over the lower lips. Lucius resisted the urge to gasp in surprise.

"My lord, the Second Grand Vicar of the Vampire Nation, will consider your proposal." Said the lanky vampire in broken English, his voice thick with a distinctively mid-European accent. Then, giving a curt bow to Lord Voldemort, he disappeared back into the shadows.

Malfoy looked at his master and then at where the vampire last stood and then at his master.

"I'm seeking the aid of the vampires." That certainly answered one question but raised a few others as well.

"Why?"

Red eyes narrowed.

Sweated poured profusely from Lucius's forehead as he strove to recover from his momentary lapse of attention.

"What I mean, milord, is what if Greyback or some of the werewolf clans found out?"

"Who is going to tell them? You? Taking orders from the tainted ones, I see." Red eyes narrowed once again. Lucius's eyes bugged out. Oh yeah, Lucy was in trouble now.

"Of course not, my lord, _never_! I only mean to say that werewolves and vampires don't mix well. In seeking some vampires who might join us, we risk losing many clans who would otherwise join us, especially once the Ministry imposed harsher sanctions."

Voldemort's red eyes became a set of barely distinguishable slits.

"Ah, so you only mean to tell me that I'm incompetent; that I needed to be reminded about one of the fundamental facts about two species that inhabit the magical world. Is that it?"

Lucius whimpered, his face turning a sickly pale, well paler than normal, color. At least he was learning. In a belated show of intelligence, Malfoy finally managed to keep a clamp on his mouth keeping him from digger himself a yet even deeper grave. Voldemort slowly waved his phoenix cored wand in broad flourishing sweeps causing it to glisten dangerously in the dimly lit room.

"Acknowledging your many years of competent service, however inconsistent at times, I, Lord Voldemort, shall spare you, Lucius, this _one_ time…" The Dark Lord's wand disappeared from view. Breathing an audible sigh of relief, the wizard immediately dropped to the ground on all four, bowing in slavish servitude.

"Your master sees all things. He understands all his servants, his allies and his enemies. So with regard to werewolves and vampires, does it not go to reason that he would carry the wisdom of knowing how to deal with both? Does it not make sense that he would know of ways to keep one side from finding out about the other?"

Voldemort leaned forward, his cold eyes titled slightly at Lucius as if appraising him humorously.

"Don't you think that there was a reason why your lord specifically ordered you to maintain your good relations with Fenrir Greyback?"

Lucius gazed at his master with widened eyes of awe and wonder.

"Master is truly too great for words to describe. This humble servant begs for forgiveness and enlightenment." But even as the wizard laid these honeyed words before the Dark Lord, a shadow of something nagged at him.

"What is it? Speak. Your lord is feeling rather generous tonight."

"What about Harry Potter?" What a bleeding dumbarse… How much intelligence does it take to NOT remind a Dark Lord how a 14-year-old escaped right from under his nose while severely wounding several of his followers?

The room's ambient temperature dropped by at least twenty degrees. Voldemort leaped up drawing his wand in an instant, a cruciatus curse on the edge of his lips. Lucius laid prostrate before him, trembling with fright.

With a deep angry sigh, the Dark Lord slowly sank back down into his seat. Voldemort pledged that he wasn't going to allow his ignoramus oaf of a servant ruin his day.

"Potter is of no consequence… for the time being" He grounded out with spite. "As for you: Get out! You have tried your lord's patience enough for one day, Lucius, don't you think?"

The wizard nodded furiously while graveling on the ground. The normally proud and haughty pureblood kissed the hem of his master's robes before turning to walk away.

"Oh Lucius… how was your meeting with the esteemed minister?" The pureblood wizard gulped, his legs locked in place mid pace. Lucius's reaction told Voldemort everything he needed to know.

"**_Crucio!_**"

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Lucius collapsed to the ground with a loud thud. The Dark Lord's outstretched wand fell to his side.

"Be mindful of your arrogance, Lucius. I will not be as forgiving next time. Get out and lock the door behind you." Voldemort stated towards the prostrate wizard. He smirked as he saw his servant's shivering form nod in acknowledgment before beating a hasty exit.

The door slammed shut behind the pureblood's scrabbling legs. In the deep darkness, the self styled Dark Lord contemplated silently, one hand holding the package Lucius had brought, the other lightly drumming the armrest of his throne.

'_Potter…'_ The thought elicited a foul resounding hiss across the vacant dank room.

Sucking in a deep breath, the Dark Lord calmly pushed the unhappy thought away. The boy was just lucky, he assured himself. Surely the little brat could be dealt with at will some other time. Meanwhile, he had much more important matters to tend to.

In one fluid motion, the Dark Lord shredded the covering of Lucius's package. It was a hard bound book of some sort, quite old too.

'_This is it.'_ This was a crucial piece of what he was missing; what he was seeking.

Voldemort touched the cover with a sort of twisted reverence as if he held some sacred treasure. He turned the badly abused blood red book over so the front faced upwards. In the center at the front was the depiction of a fierce eagle dripping blood from the end of its claws. Bellow it was emblazoned the words "**Kraft** **macht Frei**"

Excitement bubbled beneath the Dark Lord's fossilized features. His serpentine eyes skimmed through the cursive but impeccably neat hand writings.

"…**_I have successfully documented the effects of the seven regenerative nodes of the werewolf anatomy under systemized torture. However inferior their species may be, I admit that the resilience of these sub-humans is truly formidable. Soon I shall discover the secret to creating the perfect soldier. Soon I shall make a gift of my findings to my lord, the great Grindelward. And soon my master shall have his invincible army and take his rightful place as the master Europe with me at his side. Let all who dare stand against the force of history and destiny tremble in fear. – Signed Dr. Robert H. Conkling, 1944." _**

A slender skeletal finger traced the book as the Dark Lord quoted out loud the text's fitting epitaph.

"**_The seventh angel poured out his bowl into the air, and out of the temple came a loud voice from the throne, saying, 'it is done!' – Book of Revelation 16:17." _**

Everything was proceeding as he had foreseen. In the empty darkness of the room, blood red eyes glowed as Lord Voldemort let loose a roaring satanic cackle.

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**Translation: **

**Mon dieu **– My god

**Zut – **Damn

**Noire** female form of Noir – Black (Oh come on, you should have seen this from a mile away)

**La Brigade Fantôme** – The Phantom Brigade

**Kraft macht Frei **– German for 'force makes you free'. Derived from **_Arbeit macht Frei_** (Work makes you free), the slogan hung over the gates of Auschwitz and other Nazi concentration camps.


End file.
